The Angel to Balance the Demon
by Lacie-Abyss
Summary: Sebastian is back to claim Clary, saying that she belongs to him, and him to her
1. Chapter 1

Step by step

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Mortal Instruments or anything like that, all characters are those for Cassandra Clare to have and for us to fantasize about The following occurs shortly after City of Lost Souls.**

Clary remembered while she was standing at the threshold of the open gate of the Institute, watching as multiple fires burned within the property the offer Sebastian gave her an entire week before.

* * *

It was the day after she had spoken with Jace in the infirmary, she had taken a walk to clear her head, to take some time to herself. She had managed to escape her mother's hold on her, insisting that she look after Luke. Jocelyn was wary of leaving her daughter on her own for even an instant, but she reluctantly allowed Clary to leave under strict rules that she come back and not be out too long.

The New York atmosphere was familiar and reassuring, something she had missed while popping from one place to the next during her time in the house where she had lived with Jace and Sebastion. She visited several comic book stores to enjoy herself, happy that she could actually focus on them instead of having to worry about Shadowhunter world stuff, and whatnot.

_I'm just an ordinary, short, red-haired, artistic, manga loving girl, whose here to pass the time, not to fight demons, or open Portals, or fight half-demons that are your brother while having to open Portals….._

After a while she had let herself go, wandering from street to street, looking at everything but not really looking at anything in particular. She was just there, and that was the whole point. Walking past a shop window she saw a glimmer that caught her eye. Stepping closer the glass, she peered in and saw a hairpin in the shape of a rose. The flower was shaped to appear as if in full bloom, and was almost the exact shade of her eyes. She could feel her hands stretching, yearning for not the first time that she her Prismacolor pencils with her, to be able to draw it. Clary felt within herself the sudden girly impulse to buy the hairpin, and quickly rejected it. She was always doing things like this, seeing things so feminine that caught her eye, then deciding that it wouldn't suit her.

After another indecisive glimpse at the shop window, she turned around and headed back home, still seeing the shade of green in her head. Clary winded her way through streets and people, discovering that in her attempt to convince herself that she was here to relax, she hadn't noticed how trafficked the city was. There were cars blaring their horns at each other, people were competing for foot space on the sidewalk, she could hardly move without shoving someone to their doom onto the street.

Deciding to take a short cut, she began to take all the less crowded streets, going through trashed alleys and walking between buildings that were only two feet apart. She let her mind wander, not really knowing where she was going but letting her instincts tell her where to head. After some time Clary began to feel like she was being watched, followed, but not wanting to get tensed up and beat up the poor homeless man who was probably the one stalking her, she let it go.

She was almost home, she could feel it, but she didn't want to arrive just yet, so she circled around, she procrastinated and took slow steps, watching her feet hit the ground like it held meaning. In a strange way, she felt like it did. When your feet hit the ground doesn't it mean that you're going somewhere, have a destination, even though you might not know where exactly it is? When your feet touch the ground and hold it means that you're strong enough to hold you and your troubles up. Taking a step could be the end of something, or the beginning.

She was so caught up in her meaningless jarble that she had undeliberately walked into an alley that dead ended. She stood facing a brick wall, and was turning around to head back when she saw a shadow striding towards her. The sun was directly at the mouth of the alley, so she couldn't see much of the person coming towards her except for their outline. They walked with a straight back, much too confident and with meaning that it couldn't be a hobo. Clary did a quick search on the walls surrounding her for fire escapes or doors that could mean the person simply lived in this building. There were none.

That was it, this person was here for her, and Clary had been too stupid to have not noticed.

_What was one beat up hobo? Stupid Clary, Stupid!_

As the figure approached, blocking the sun with their back, Clary tried not to gasp or shout as she recognized the white hair, black eyes, tall form that smiled maliciously. Her heart rate accelerated with, what? Fear? Adrenaline? Excitement? Maybe a mix of all three. Until he was standing five feet from her, Clary didn't move, speak, or try to make any facial expression. She was blank, waiting for him to make the first move, to attack her, kill her, pull out another cup and attempt to pour the damned blood that would turn her like him down her throat.

On the outside she betrayed nothing, while on the inside she repelled as he cocked his head slightly to the side, and as Sebastian held out his hand.

"Hello Clarissa, my sweet sister"

* * *

Back at the Institute, Clary could see how much damage had been done. The several fires that had gone up, either on accident or purpose or both she couldn't fathom, wrecked much of the place. The grass was ashes, and the walls of the castle like Institute were scorched black with soot. Trees were up in flames and Clary could make out small figures running amongst. Shadowhunters trying to put out the fire, drawing runes for water everywhere they could. Some were fighting each other, much to Clary's confusion until she noticed their black, pit-like eyes.

_Sebastian. _

He's here. And he's brought more of his cursed anti-Shadowhunters with him. Clary cursed and ran up the path heading towards the stairs, where she could see four new forms dancing in the flames. She held her stele in her hand, having pulled it out unconsciously when she first spotted the smoke in the air on her way over. Isabelle had called her, saying that they had been caught with their guard down, that before they even knew what was going on, already fire was burning and demon Shadowhunters were on the grounds. How they got there, she didn't know. No one knew, and at the moment it didn't matter how they got in, but how to get them out.

As she got near the stairs, the four forms turned into two limp bodies. Clary's eyes widened as she recognized Isabelle, her electrum whip still wrapped in her loose grip, her hair trailing behind her and covering her face like a curtain. She was slumped over carefully, as if before she blacked out she made sure she wouldn't hit her face on the cement stairs.

The other figure didn't fare so well. Alec was barely a hop away from Isabelle, a seraph blade also held limply in his hand, his body was sliding down the steps and his head would have banged down on a step, obviously not the first time based on the blood already seeping through a gash at the back of his head, had she not quickly caught him. He was long and heavy, Clary did her best to pull him up the top of the stairs, and tried to pull him into the open doorway, but was out of breathe soon and found that Isabelle also weigh a ton when she was dead weight. She laid them on the floor just inside, the light flickering from the candles next to the pews.

She drew a healing rune on the inside of each wrist for both brother and sister, and Clary was relieved to see that their wounds and bruises were already starting to fade. Seeing that it would be best that she help out in other areas, she left the siblings, hoping that the fight was mainly going on outside, and ran throughout the madness, drawing water runes here and there, for the fire wasn't backing down.

She helped several fallen Shadowhunters, drawing more healing runes, and helping a man when he was about to be stabbed by a demon Shadowhunter. She could hear human fire trucks in the distant, at first her hopes went up, but quickly plummeted when she realized that all the mortals would see is a filthy church gone up in flames. They wouldn't see what was really going on.

As she jogged around, avoiding tangles of fighting and jumping over fallen trees, she heard a familiar laugh, searching, she found at the back of the Institute, roughly the same area as when she drew a Portal for the first time to get to Alicante, two tall figures. Jace and Sebastian.

Over a week ago, they might have been acting all buddy-buddy, Jace making jokes and Sebastian smirking, pretending to be his friend. But that was all a lie, Jace was no longer under Sebastian's hold, and Jace was never going to forgive him.

Ever.

Standing at a distance, Clary couldn't help but marvel at how alike and different the both seemed. Jace had tan, golden skin, and gold blond hair, while Sebastian's skin was pale, just as his hair was. When she first met Sebastian, his hair had been dyed black, she couldn't but remember Snow White, _hair as black as night, skin as white as snow._ But this was no house cleaning, singing beauty, this might have been the devil himself. They had both been raised by the same man though, they had the same habits, and knew much of the same techniques.

As she listened closer, she could hear Sebastian speaking, while Jace held a scowl on his face and a lit seraph blade in his hand.

"Come on little brother, you've got to admit, we made a pretty good team, you and I, I mean, look at what we accomplished all on our own," Sebastian said.

"Oh, you mean when you had me zombified and I was your happy little servant, pleased to do what master said?" Jace retorted, managing to sound like he meant it, "Gee, I think anyone would work well with anyone as long as they're their _puppet_!"

"Oh, details, details. You know, I didn't come here to tie you to me anymore, why would I need such a weak link, you were easily swayed, especially by _her" _

"You say one word about Clary and I swear I'll beat your as-"

"Really? I don't think so, you see, Clary and I are siblings, therefore I can say whatever I want," Sebastian was playing with him, pushing his buttons, trying to make him angry to the point where he's unfocused.

"Did you know," Sebastian continued, seeming to ignore or not care when Jace lifted his seraph blade, "that I kissed Clary? Not just in Alicante when you two were having your arguments, but at home too, you should have seen us, we practically broke the glass table."

Sebastian barely got the last word out when Jace lunged at him, having had enough.

They fought fiercely, slashing at each other, Sebastian having pulled out a seraph blade sometime throughout the fight. At first, they both seemed evenly matched, but then Jace was getting backed up against the wall, he was still recovering and therefore not completely up for the match, but his anger at the time didn't let him see that.

Before Clary knew it, Sebastian had Jace by the neck, pinning him to the wall, both seraph blades were on the ground, and Jace pawed furiously at the hands that gripped him, but to no avail. As Sebastian squeezed tighter, Clary's mind raged back towards the week before.

* * *

"What do you want Sebastian?" Clary's voice sounded normal, what any sister would say to her brother, but she still could hear her undertone, _what does he want!? What is he going to do!?_

"Can't a brother come and accompany his younger sister anymore?" he asked, hurt. "You know Clary, it's awfully dangerous for you to be out here all alone, someone could follow you and treat so badly." He smiled at that last part

"We both know that's not your intention," Clary could still feel the desperate need to escape from then, when Sebastian pressed his lips unto hers back then. The sick feeling. "Now, what do you want?" This time she dropped all normalness and let her disgust trickle through her words.

"I've been thinking a lot Clary, remember the question you asked me? Back in Paris? Who did I belong to? Remember, I belong to you, and you belong to me."

"That's absurd, I don't belong to anyone but myself!" _And Jace_

"But Clary, don't you see, we are alike, brother and sister separated their entire lives and brought back together in harsh times, it's destiny! Clary, you must come with me, we could be together at last, no rules, nothing to hold back, I could show you everything, give you anything, can't you see that with me you're better off than with them, if you stay with me you'll be safer." Sebastian's eyes had softened, his smile gone, he sounded sincere, so sincere, that it took every ounce of willpower for Clary to remember that Sebastian was nothing but a monster taught to fake emotions.

"No, Sebastian, if I go with you, it'll only be hell," Clary tried to walk past him, but his hand shot out and gripped her upper arm.

"Let me g-,"Clary started to say.

"If you go, I'll destroy them, everyone. I can have everything Clarissa, but the one thing I don't have is you."

"I said let me go!"

"Even if I do let you go you'll just run, and I'll catch you, come with me-"

"Let go of my arm!"

"Claris-"

"JONATHAN. CHRISTOPHER. MORGENSTERN," She spoke each name like they were the last things she wanted to say, "Let go of my arm, now!" Her voice was filled with ice, and her eyes were cold as she stared into her brother's coal black eyes.

Slowly, without breaking eye contact, he let her go, but as soon as she turned her back toward him and took a step, he wrapped her arms around her waist and held her to his back.

"Sebastian!" Clary writhed around, using her elbow to jab at his weak points but he wouldn't budge.

"You said arm, not waist," he chuckled into her hair, his face pressing against her neck, "I'm giving you a choice, my Clarissa, come with me, and I won't ever bother your friends and family ever again, be mine."

"And if I refuse? Are you just gonna take me anyway?" she had stopped fighting, seeing as it was better to not waste her energy. Even if he was broken and bleeding he wouldn't let go.

"It's an offer, one that you can make at any time, just say that you'll come with me, and all that you care for will be spared."

It was tempting. Her whole existence felt like a burden on everyone, she always felt like she was doing the wrong thing, why risk everyone else's lives just because she didn't want to go with him. But still. They'd never accept it, if they were all here, Jocelyn, Luke, Isabelle, Jace, Alec, Magnus, even Maryse, they'd all tell her no, that they'd rather fight to their last breath than just sacrifice her off for their protection.

"I'm sorry Sebastian, I really am, but I'm going to have to decline your offer."

She could feel him smirk. "Don't make the choice now, remember, you make it any time you want."

* * *

_Any time you want…_

His words vibrated in her mind like a broken record, scratching over and over her thoughts as she tried to figure out what she was going to do. She still hadn't revealed herself to the two, should she fight? If she sneaked behind him, she could pick up one of the seraph blades and stab him in the back, Sebastian could fight Jace in his recovering state, and Clarissa had fought well enough against him on her own, maybe the two of the together could bring him down.

That still wouldn't solve everything else, they needed to know how to put out the fires, and to call off the other demon Shadowhunters. They needed his cooperation, and they needed it now.

Clary made her mind before she could change it.

"JONATHAN CHRISTOPHER MORGENSTERN!"

Everything froze. Sebastian's grip on Jace, Jace's struggling, the fire, everything stopped when Sebastian turned his face and met her eyes. Clary expected to see resentment, hate, anger, and the urge to kill in those eyes.

What she saw was what also froze her heartbeat. Sebastian's eyes lit up, like they found hope in a place full of darkness, his muscles relaxed, his expression softened and his mouth smiled like she was the first thing he ever hoped for.

He was happy to see her.

"Clary," the word left his lips like a prayer, as if he spent nights repeating it again and again. Clary's heart dropped when she realized that maybe he did.

"Sebastian, I….I…..," she looked down, was she really going to do this?

She swallowed. _Forgive me, Jace_

She lifted her head and met Sebastian's eyes "I accept your offer."

Sebastian seemed to stop. Then his lips lifted in the most bursting smile. It was gorgeous, and Clary hated to admit it. He let go of Jace's neck, making Jace slump down and cough, while peering up at Clary in astonishment. Sebastian managed to walk towards her in the fraction of an instant, stopping just in front if her.

"You mean it?" he asked, worry tingeing his bewilderment.

Clary nodded.

"Clary, wait!" Jace was standing now, his voice was hoarse, his hand had found a seraph blade and was pointing it straight at Sebastian, "You don't have to accept anything this thing made to you to save me, I'd rather die than lose you!"

"It's not just you she's saving, it's everyone. Despite what you may think not everything revolved around you Jace," Sebastian said, not sounding like he cared really, like we wasn't even talking to Jace, He hadn't taken his eyes off of her for a second.

"I'm sorry, Jace" Clary croaked, trying to stop her eyes from welling with tears as Sebastian wrapped an arm across her shoulders.

Sebastian's eyes had returned to their evil, blood thirsty intent, and looked at Jace like he was filth.

"Don't worry little brother, I'll take very good care of our little shared love," as he said this, Clary felt like she was slipping into darkness, the last thing she could remember was Jace yelling out her name.

* * *

_Claaaaryyyy…._

Clary woke to an echo of a scream that came from her dreams.

"Jace?" she sat up, expecting Jace to be seating in a chair next to the bed, reading a book that she had fallen asleep to while he read aloud to her, as he had done so many times.

But he wasn't there.

Clary was in an unfamiliar room, laying in what was the largest bed she had ever seen. It could have easily taken up her entire room a Luke's. There were posts on the four corners of the bed, holding up what appeared to be a pole that held curtains that would wound around and conceal the bed if done.

For a large room, it was mostly empty. There was a large vanity mirror, a dressing drawer, a large wicker chair that faced a window whose curtains were closed, and a door that led into a bathroom. The floor was carpeted with fluffy green, so Clary didn't even bother to find her shoes as she slipped out of the bed.

She was still in her clothes from the battle, her red hoodie, covered in soot and smelled of smoke, and her black jeans. She was wearing her green sketchers, and would look for them later. She felt dirty, so decided to take a quick shower, but first she rummaged through the dressing drawer, and found t-shirts of all colors, as well as hoodies, jeans, all in her size.

There was even a packet of socks, underwear and bras that must have been recently bought. Clary tried not to think of how creepy it was that they were also in her size.

She took a change of clothes, a showered quickly, running the warm water through her tangled hair, and rubbing soap over her, trying to get rid of the scent of the fire. When she was out, now dressed in a yellow T-shirt and blue jeans, she walked out the door in search of, what? She had no idea where she was.

She was hungry, that's for sure, yet the thought that she just abandoned everyone she cared for made the idea of food seem revolting. She had to figure out where she was, and if she could get out.

_I have to figure out where Sebastian is._

Clary creeped out of the room, and into the hallway, which was also covered in the lush green carpet. Clary was thankful, for the carpet muffled her steps. The hallway led both left and right, yet to the right it dead ended. So she chose to move left, where the hallway stopped and the ceiling angled down. She assumed there would be stairs there.

She was right. The stairs led down into an enormous room that served both as a kitchen and living room, a long bar separating the two. There was a comfy looking couch with a coffee table set in front of it and a large plasma screen T.V that was mounted on the wall that couch was facing. Simple. The kitchen was basic as well, the chrome refrigerator, the sink, and wide counter to cook on. There was a microwave, a toaster, blender, stove, just about everything. Even a juicer.

Clary was just about to head towards the promising looking door that might take her outside, when two arms encircled her and pressed her back into a warm hug.

"Good morning Clarissa," Sebastian greeted her by whispering this into her ear, his breathe hot.

She tried not to recoil. "Good morning Sebastian," she was glad he couldn't see her face.

"Now, let's talk about that first, shall we?" Without letting go of her, he walked them towards the couch, and he released her to sit down. He sat facing her, one elbow propped against the couch, the other resting by his leg.

"Talk about what?" Clary sat with her hands in her lap.

"My name. Now that I think about it, I like it when you call me Jonathan Christopher, instead of Sebastian."

"You want me to call you something else?" Clary was stunned. She was expecting for Sebastian to want to use her right away, to have his way with her, like he said right before they left the other house, the one she got rid of. Speaking of which…..

"Where are we?"

Sebastian blinked, then smirked . "I can never get you off of what you want can I? Well if you must know, I encountered another one of our houses, and allow me to tell this to you now Clary, if you even pull another one of your rune tricks, I will command those under my power to make another assault on your precious Institute."

He was still smirking, as if he had planned it all out. _Typical._

"And how are you going to do that?" She asked.

"A guy's gotta have his secrets," he replied, "But enough about that, yes, you can call me some other name, preferably Jonathan Christopher."

"Well, why don't I give you a nickname, like Jace has," she didn't know where she was getting at, here she was, away from the people she cares about, practically trapped, and she was going to give Sebastian a nickname.

It was ridiculous, yet felt normal. Sebastian was making it easy, so Clary was going to along with it. Jace was called Jace because of his initials, she assumes, since he was also named Jonathan Christopher. But what name to give Sebastian?

"A nickname?" Sebastian tilted his head slightly to the side.

"Yeah, like John, or maybe I can just call you Christopher, you know I think I like Chris. Yeah, I like Chris, you kind of look like a Chris," she was babbling, but if it was what he wanted Clary might as well try.

"Chris? Hmm, it does sound nice. Chris." He was smiling, like he actually appreciated the fact that she was helping him a get new identity.

He stood up, and paced around the coffee table. "Chris, Chris, Chris, yes, I like it. Chris."

He faced her, in front of the T.V, and beamed at her. "Well then, that settles that."

"That's it?" Clary stood up, "That's it, just Chris? Shouldn't you do some paperwork or something?"

"Oh Clary, we won't be working under anything like that, to you I am Chris, and that's it, don't you see, this is the beginning of something new, new start, new life, new name. You're free to change your name too if you want."

_Change my name? _ "No thank you, I like Clary just fine."

"Suit yourself," Sebas- Or Chris now, she guessed, shrugged and sat down on the couch again, reached for the coffee table for the remote, and switched on the screen.

Clary sat down as well as Chris flicked through channels.

"Didn't the last house not get any channels?" she asked.

"Yes, well, I had that arranged as you can see." He said, not taking his eyes off the screen.

"Yeah, but," Clary let the topic drop. His name is Chris. We have T.V. Weeeee

As they sat together and watched T.V, Clary felt herself relax, despite the fact that she kept telling herself that Chris was a demon, he did not feel human emotion, did not laugh at funny shows, feel sadness when someone died in a movie (and they watched several) he did not feel obliged to help someone when they were looking for the popcorn in the cabinets, it was simply not real.

Yet he was doing it. Whether it was acting, or just that he was getting into the vibe like she was, Clary couldn't know.

It was getting late, or at least she felt it was getting late, judging that she hadn't seen the outside world at all, when she started to feel her eyelids getting heavy. She urged them open, not wanting to fall asleep. She tried to focus on things, details that required her concentration, the hand of an actress on the T.V, the hand of the clock in the kitchen, the slight twitch in her fingers, when she found herself staring at Chris's eyelashes.

_Why are they so long! Just like Jocelyn's, I don't have long eyelashes, it's not fair…._

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Chris had paused the movie to a scene where the actors were in a high speed chase on a highway. "You look like you're trying not to have a fit."

"It's not fair." She voiced her complaint aloud.

"What is?" He readjusted himself so that his whole body faced her.

"Your eyelashes! They're so damn long it's not fair! Why couldn't I get that! I have short, ugly, eyelashes, it's not possible! And….freckles! You don't have a single one! Look at me! I'm like a kid's connect-the-dots, why don't you have any freckles!"

Clary stared at him, her lips in a pout, only slightly regretful that she had let herself open up to Chris.

All of a sudden a laugh bubbled out from Chris' lips. He doubled over, unable to contain himself, Clary could only watch in astonishment, and then tried to remain angry, but couldn't as a smile crept onto her expression as she taunted him, "What's so funny? Huh?" she threw a pillow that she was leaning against at him.

He let it hit him, and when he managed to calm down, he said, "You! The fact that you'd get mad over something like that! Honestly, I didn't even notice I had long eyelashes, much less that yours were short."

"How can you not notice? Do you know how much girls hate-love guys with long eyelashes!" Clary shouted, though she had to admit, she didn't even sound remotely upset.

"Hate-love?" Chris asked, "Why would they both hate and love it? Can't they just decide?"

"They hate it because boys don't necessarily need long eyelashes, and girls with short eyelashes will hate them for that, for example, moi, but they love it because boys with long eyelashes look good," Clary stated, matter-of-factly.

"This love-hate, hate-love, is a very simple thing really, not everything is perfect, therefore while you can love something or someone, it or they may have a default that causes you trouble or that you just don't like, alcohol and drugs for one are an excellent proof of this, because people love the high of it, but when they're dropped back down they feel like dump." Clary sat back, slightly pleased that she was able to explain something in a way that made sense.

She glanced at Chris, waiting for him to nod in agreement.

He however, had apparently zoned off, and when she met his gaze he said, "So what I'm hearing is, I look good because of my long eyelashes, enough to make girls jealous, even you?" He smiled contently, "Don't be jealous Clary, you have your own traits, for one, do you know how many people would kill for your green eyes?"

Clary hadn't actually thought about that. Well she had, she knew that she liked her eyes, and that people that they were pretty, but she never considered people to be jealous of her for it.

She shook her head, telling Chris she didn't know. "Well," he continued, "Now you do. And your freckles, you may hate them, but they make you special, I like your freckles." He said that with a low tone, his laughing tone gone. Clary could feel the mood around them change from happy, bubbly, joking siblings, to something deeper, more intimate.

The change made her stomach drop.

Suddenly nauseous, she stood up, "Well thank you Chris, I think I'll head back up and sleep, I'm tired." She did what she hoped was a convincing yawn, and headed towards the stairs, when she felt his presence behind her.

"I'll come with you," He placed his hand at her elbow, and she tried not to recoil. Despite the fact that they had spent the entire day together, they hadn't made any physical contact, which she was grateful for and was probably why she allowed herself to loosen up. But now, his touch on her revived all the old feelings. Disgust, hate, the desperate need to get away, that this wasn't right. He was a demon, one that would stop at nothing to have her, all he wanted was her, no matter what.

She attempted her best at shrugging him off politely, "That's alright Chris, I can find the room I was in on my own."

Clary walked up the stairs, but by the time she was on the second floor, Chris had gripped her upper arm. "Please Clary, let me come with you, I'm asking you."

Clary could feel him wanting her. This was it, the reason why Chris had wanted her to come. This whole time she knew, that this was inevitable, that Chris' sick, twisted mind could only hold its act for so long, and that the demon within him would rage against her. The feelings she'd been trying to pent up were breaking through with a torrent of thoughts.

_Why did I come here? Why did I take his offer!? I should have stayed and fought alongside Jace, we could have handled Chr-, no at that time he was still Sebastian. We could have done it, I know we would have. Why was I so stupid!_

_You did it for them _The reasonable part of said,_ you did it for your love of the people you cherish, don't forget about the sacrifices and losses they've had for you._

Chris stared at her as if he could read her every thought, and without giving her much choice, he said "Come with me" and dragged her down the hallway, and opened a door just two away from the one she awoke in this morning.

He showed her in, and closed the door behind him. Closed and locked. The door could only be unlocked on the outside, while on the inside you would need a key. How they were getting out, Clary's mind begged how.

"Why'd you lock the door?" she demanded as her hand flew automatically to the chain around her neck that held Jace's ring.

"Just in case," Chris walked towards the giant bed that dominated the room, which was in much the same decor as the one Clary was in. Clary didn't budge. When Chris noticed, he sighed, "Clary, you know what you came here for."

He strode towards her, and placed his hands on her shoulders, to hold her or make sure she didn't make a break for it and suicide herself by jumping out the window, which was free of curtains and gave her the first view of outdoors all day, revealing a night sky jotted with stars, Clary wasn't sure.

"Come on Clary, join me in bed." Clary's feet moved like a robot, almost against her will, but she was controlling them. There must be something she could do, something to prevent this.

Clary sat at the edge of the bed, while Chris kneeled down and removed her socks, "They're too hot for me and frankly I don't like them while sleeping," he claimed.

He stood up and was looking deeply into her eyes, leaning closer, when Clay blurted out, "What happened after we left?"

"What?" he asked. His eye widened in a confused, stare. "Oh, after you accepted my offer, I used trinket I have that opens a Portal between where I stand, and the house. And in case you're wondering, it only works on getting it, not out."

"And then, what about the demon Shadowhunters, the fires?" she was eager now to know, but it also served as a distraction to Chris, as well as dragging on the time while Clary thought about how to work her way out of this one.

"Oh, well I command the demon Shadowhunters, as you call them, when my presence was no longer there, they left, and will await my commands for any further plans, if I don't tell them to do anything, then they won't do anything. As for the fires, I used dark magic to control them, I put them out as soon as we left."

"Oh." Clary's guilt lessened. At least now she didn't have to worry about abandoning her friends in the middle of battle.

"Now that your questions are all answered…."he dragged that on, as if waiting for anything else she wanted to know, and she desperately tried to think of one, but in the moment she couldn't think of any except for HOW DO I GET OUT OF HERE?!

Chris was staring at her again, and he leaned down, and Clary couldn't take it anymore. Anymore of the fighting, the holding her ground, she was a Shadowhunter, but she wasn't as powerful as the rest of the people who grew up knowing that they were Shadowhunters. Clary thought maybe if he just let it happen, it wouldn't be as bad as she thought. Get it over with, she could do it. She would let her mind wander, like she did so many times before she discovered what she was, who she was. She remembered walking around in mindless states, with Simon having to jostle her out of her world to knock her into the present. She could have gone hours back then in her own world without noticing, but that was before everything changed, and Clary was required to focus.

But now, maybe she could do it again. There was nowhere to go, she could lose herself in her mind.

And it worked, on one level, she could feel Chris, his body heat radiating off of him, his fingers trailing her cheekbones, down her throat and straight through the middle of her breasts. Could feel his fingers caressing her back, and she could feel her body responding, giving off sighs, shudders, and the arching of her back where his fingers touched. He wasn't doing anything yet, he was simply touching. Then he began to kiss her forehead, the back of her hand, her wrist, taking his time, for she now belonged to him, and they had all the time they could ever need. They were both sitting on the bed now, and he had managed to get her to sit in his lap, his arms traveling up and down her spine, moving her raid hair to the side so he could kiss the back of her neck, but soon she could hear his breath getting heavier, anticipation wearing down on him.

Clary knew this, but wasn't entirely aware. In her mind, it was Jace that was with her, and Jace was simply holding her, whispering little things to her in her ear, making her smile. Suddenly, Clary remembered something, a night where she and Jace had slept together, her in a nightgown, and he was reading when she entered the room. She remembered asking him if they could just sleep that night. Just sleep.

Chris was getting more savaged, he was kissing her neck with more passion now. He shifted from sitting position, turned Clary around so that he was kneeling in front of her, and grabbed the front of her shirt and tore it down the middle. Clary gasped, more automatically than actually caring, she was still in her world. Chris yanked off his shirt as well, looked at Clary with his flushed face.

"If I wanted to, I'd count each and every one of your freckles, and tell you why each one was special, but right now, I'm afraid looking at you isn't just gonna cut it for me."

Chris grabbed her, and in absolute lust and fury, pressed his lips down unto hers.

That snapped Clary. In a jolt, she went from her pleasant mind-world, to a world where she and Chris were shirtless, in a bed, and furiously kissing.

_No._

She was frozen. Chris had pushed her down so that he was on top of her, his hands on both her arms, holding her, and his legs pressing between hers, pulling them apart.

_NO_

He was reaching for her pants, still not breaking the kiss and fumbling with the button, Clary noticed his were already sliding down his waist.

_NO!_

That was it. Clary panicked and violently turned her face to the side, so that Chris was stuck kissing into her ear. He reared back, eyes full of want, need. Of her.

"Clary, what-" his voice was breathless, also filled with lust.

"Chris, let's just sleep." Clary said evenly.

"What," he asked bewildered, "No, you can't do this now, not now! You belong to me now!" He tried to reach for her again, but his reflexes were slower, his movements shaky. Clary however, was rock steady.

"Yes, that was our agreement, I stay with you, therefore, I belong to you," she took a breath, "but that means that we have a lot of time together, and I don't want to go through this so quickly, please Chris, do it for me, let's take this step by step."

Clary walked over to the dressing drawer, found a random shirt that was too large, and pulled it on. She walked back to Chris, and placed her hand in his, suddenly sure in what she was doing.

"Step by step, I promise you, for every step, it'll be better," she smiled a true, genuine smile.

Chris was taken aback, he was slumped, like a child whose toy was taken away, but perked up when she smiled. So he smiled.

"Jace, did you do this with Jace too?" he asked.

"Yes. I told Jace to sleep, so we slept." She answered.

"Oh." Was his only comment.

So that night, Clary and Chris slept in the same bed, Clary's back to Chris' stomach, Chris with his arm across Clary, and with a faint smile on his lips that he swore he never slept with before.

Chris's last thoughts before he slept,_ I'm not alone anymore, I found the angel to balance my demon….._

**What did you think? Comment, REVIEW. Please do so nicely, but tell me if I rushed the ending too much. This is my first fanfiction so I'm crossing my fingers!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello everyone, thank you for reading and for the nice reviews! Special thanks to Belletristik Aura for giving me advice and helping me build along the story and making me decide to continue it.**

**I apologize for anyone who doesn't like incest between Clary and Sebastian/Chris, and I'll try not to disgust you, so there won't be so much of that, (unless requested ****)**

**So, as for the usual disclaimers, blah blah I don't own Clary, Sebastian, the Mortal Instruments, and again I apologize since this is my first fanfiction story.**

**Enjoy!**

**Clary POV**

Clary had woken to bright light, she felt warm everywhere, so snug and fluffy, that her sleepy mind was tempted to close her eyes again and sleep, to just continue this blissful state of ignorance.

_Just five more minutes….._

She did close her eyes. Then opened them again when she noticed that her vision was filled with white; white that seemed like it was touchable, and soft. Slowly she reached out, and felt the white. Hair. Chris's hair. Her confused mind bounced around.

And then the memories came crashing down on her. The burning grounds of the Institute. Isabelle and Alec unconscious, Jace getting beaten by Sebastian, then she and Se- no, now Chris, enjoying themselves, watching T.V, goofing around like close siblings. Then images of her and him in bed, her mind shutting it all out, creating a barrier to her surroundings. But then her voice broke through, _Let's just sleep tonight…._

No. Clary shut her eyes, determined that that was all a bad dream, she had a strange, induced dream from having too much black coffee, and when she opened her eyes, she'd be in her bed, in her room, and her mom and Luke would be in the kitchen, making breakfast.

_Everything is perfectly normal, or as normal as my life can get nowadays._

Keeping her eyes closed, she sat up, and felt around with her hands, seeking for the familiarity of her comforter. She found nothing.

_This isn't my bed._

Her eyes snapped open. Plain large room.

_This isn't my room._

Careful as to not make any noise or stir the bed, she swiveled her head to the side, and identified the peacefully sleeping body next to her.

_And that isn't Jace…or Simon….oh god….._

She had slept with her brother. Just slept right? She raced through her memories of last night, coming up with nothing. Yes, they had just slept, and while she was thankful for that, she couldn't help but wonder why Chris had listened to her, why hadn't he taken advantage of her while she was asleep. Because he didn't. She could tell. There were just some things a girl knew.

_I slept with my brother, my demonic, possibly insane brother who loves to kill, and has tried to kill people close to me…._

But on the other hand, it's normal right? She tried to be reasonable, to calm herself with the fact that siblings sleep with each other all the time, she remembered Isabelle saying that when she was younger, and her parents were gone, she'd sleep with Alec because she would be afraid of thunderstorms. (Of course, Izzy had been drunk, and what she said was just drunk talk while Clary tried to pry the liquor bottle out of her hands, so there was no way she would've told Clary this information otherwise, because Isabelle Lightwood was scared of nothing and needed no one)

_So it was okay. Everything is fine, I'm just a younger sister who had fallen asleep with her big brother._

At least she tried to get that idea into her head. While her head repeated that over and over again, her stomach felt tingly and she shivered with a little more than disgust. What was she going to do? She had to get out of there first, and not just the bed, the house!

But where was the exit! There had to be a way to get, it wasn't like Chris had bought a magical pantry that restocked food all the time, they had to get out _sometime._ As much as Chris said he'd leave everyone she loved alone, she doubted he'd be able to stay in here long before the urge to go kill something hit. Her too, she didn't think she'd last a long time stuck here, she'd get dreadfully bored, and hoped that Chris would take her out, at least to take a walk or something.

Before she moved, she watched Chris's face, looking for any sign that he was about to wake up. Nothing, he looked as peaceful as anyone could be, maybe more. Who would've thought that the monster that killed demons and people for enjoyment could actually look serene and baby-like while he slept. Not her. She allowed her artist's mind to wander around his face, still watching for signs that he might open his eyes, looking at the details of facial structure, the way the light hit his face and made it a mix of lights and darks. Like this, he almost looked like what she was always hoped for in an older brother. Mature yet playful, nice, protecting, caring. _Good looking. _She mentally shook her head, rearing her mind back to the topic at hand. An exit! Gotta find it.

Her mind in mental conflict, she eased her way out of the bed, thankful that her light weight didn't shift the bed too much, and stood in front of the door. She internally scolded herself. She remembered that last night Chris had locked the door, leaving her no way out, except for the window, but after stalking over to it and examining every detail, she concluded that there was no way to open it and go through it unless she hurled herself at it.

By this point she was seriously considering it as an option.

_Not yet, check everywhere._

The bathroom attached to the room had no exits, unless she turned into a fish and flushed herself down the toilet.

Not an option.

She walked back towards the door, meaning to see if she could twist the knob hard enough to break it, knowing that's not possible but was better than nothing, when it clicked and opened.

The door was never locked.

_Then what was the purpose of showing me that you had locked it? To make me feel trapped? To show that I had nowhere to go? Why didn't you just _actually_ lock the door?_

Chris's action, or rather his non-actions, because he wasn't doing them really, were starting to mess with what Clary thought she knew. _If he really wanted me here, why is the door not locked? Is this a game, to see how long it takes me to escape, and how long it takes for him to catch and find me? If I go downstairs, will there be a door, wide open, so that I can leave, then later he'll punish me by killing someone I love, just to threaten me? Ugh, why Chris?! _

Clary turned her head toward the bed, and stared at the figure laying on it. _What if he's not even asleep? What if the instant I head out the door, he'll get up and chase me, follow me, and do who knows what? Stop! No, he's asleep, I know that, but if he's not…._

She had to mentally shake her head again. Now was not the time to doubt her beliefs, or rather, Chris's actions. If she tried to figure out all of his moves, she'd become insane trying to comprehend it all down to the last point. There's no reason in wanting to know what he wants. Clary already knew what that was. Her. And that's all she needed to know. There's no point in wanting to know more. _And no point in just standing around here….._

Carefully, she walked out into the hallway, shut the door, and headed towards the kitchen.

_Maybe some coffee will help me make some sense of this._

**Chris POV**

Chris was starting to question why he had left the door unlocked after all.

The day before it had seemed like a good way to test Clary's intelligence and her belief in him. Some people, upon seeing that the door was locked, wouldn't even bother to check if it was _actually_ locked. They'd accept what their eyes had shown them without question. So Clary wasn't that type of person. She saw that he'd locked the door, which had a broken lock so even if you did lock it, it wouldn't work, yet went to open it anyway. Chris by the way, was asleep the whole time.

Showed how much she believed his actions. Clary didn't have faith in him, not that he could blame her, but the fact that he didn't have her in the palm of his hand ticked him.

He knew she wasn't in bed the instant he woke up. Chris didn't wake up groggy, having to shake sleep off of him before his body was alert. One second he was sleeping, the next he was wide awake. He was surprised he hadn't woken up when Clary got out of bed, normally the slightest noise, breathe, disturbance, was enough to jolt him. Yet he didn't. And what was even stranger still, was that he even felt like his sleep had been peaceful. Probably the best sleep he had ever had.

Chris stretched his arms towards where he predicted Clary would have been laying on the bed. His fingers could still feel some traces of heat. She hadn't been gone very long, knowing Clary she probably went down to eat, and after seeing the way she ate from the time they lived together, she probably still was.

Part of him was slightly disappointed the second he realized that Clary wasn't still sleeping. He would have enjoyed watching her sleep, just as he had in Paris, when they were on that park bench, he had folded up his scarf for her to use as a pillow while she rested her head on his lap. He had carefully watched her, seeing her face as she dreamed of who knows what, her mouth slightly parted and her fingers twitching, as if even in slumber she yearned for a pencil to draw.

_Maybe I should get her art supplies, just so that she'll trust me some more…._

Chris flinched. Had he wanted to give Clary art supplies so that he could gain her confidence, or to make her happy? There's a difference, on one hand, Clary will trust him, and he can inch closer to her, and take what he wants. At least, he thinks that's what he wants. Isn't it? The whole purpose of him having her here was so that he could have her, make her his. Yet he hadn't done it.

Last night. Clary told him to sleep. Just sleep. And he had listened. Why? Why did he obey her, when he could have taken advantage of the situation? What's wrong with him?

It's all her fault. Clary was making him lose sight of his objectives, and is messing with his mind, yes, that makes sense. Ever since she came along, everything in his mind hasn't been as clear to him. He doubts his decisions, criticizes his own thoughts, and second guesses himself.

_She's doing this on purpose, her actions, her words, it's all carefully planned to get me to completely question myself. I can't let her do that, I'll have to do something, give her rules, restrictions._

Chris got out of bed, and looked for a change of clothes to wear, another random T-Shirt, a red one that flushed the color out of his face and made him look extra pale, and dark jeans. He rinsed his face in the bathroom that was attached to the room, not to wake him up, he was as alert as a cat stalking his prey, but out of habit. His father had always said that a Morgenstern must look his best and be clean all the time.

Before his mind could switch into memories of _that man_, he splashed another handful of cold water on his face Then he exited the bathroom, and the room, and headed downstairs. Instead, he thought of Clary, a sight that always required his full attention. Her curled red hair, dark green eyes that seemed to draw your gaze, her face that was just smothered in freckles, and her small pink lips. His image of her wasn't of her smiling, laughing, or sad and crying. It was of her looking at him in amazement. Like when he explained to her about their family background, how Morgenstern was a German name, yet that part of the family was Swedish, how she stared at him in fascination, eager to hear more. Listening to him in amazement. The way her eyes sparkled, happy to get information that Chris could bet not even Jocelyn had told her about. Happy to actually be told things instead of being in the dark. That's the image he held of her. That, and of her sleeping. Again, he wished he could have woken up first, so that he could have seen pretty little face. His sister's face. _His sister's face._ It felt, right, to know that she was his sister. _His._ Nobody else's.

As Chris he walked through the hallway, he couldn't help but wonder, if he would've watched Clary as she slept, did she sneak a peek at him as well?

_Was the angel guarding over me?_

The thought was, strangely, comforting in his demonic mind.

**Clary POV**

Clary had changed clothes. She was no longer wearing the clothes from yesterday, but she was wearing a long, slim, lime green, sleeveless shirt. Or dress. It could be worn as both, for Isabelle it would have been a shirt, for Clary, it's a dress. See the difference? Either way, she felt it was too short and ended up wearing black skinny jeans as well, with some combat boots that went over the jeans. She had found a nice brown belt and tied it around her waist, giving her more of an hourglass figure, and accentuating her skinniness.

She thought she looked nice. After changing, she decided to push all thoughts of her situation away from her attention, and focus on breakfast. She didn't know where everything was, not like in her home, Luke's really, where if she wanted something she'd just walk right up to the proper cabinet without a thought, out of mere habit. So she thought maybe she'd just look through them all to get a bearing as to what they had so that she could assemble her breakfast. She was thinking about a nice warm, sit-in-front-of-the-T.V breakfast, with waffles and toast, eggs, bacon. Imagining the syrup she would use to douse on her waffles made her mouth water, and the sweet, scrumptious jam she would spread on her toasty, warm toast. The fluffy pancakes she could make, slathered in butter…..

Writer's POV: I'm sorry, I should not be writing this before breakfast, apologies, Oh gosh, I'm hungry now. Please proceed, anyone got waffles?

Clary was just thinking about where the flour may be when she opened the first cabinet she saw. Instantly, a box of flour was right in front of her. _Lucky guess._ Or so she thought. She put the flour on the large marble counter table that dominated the center of the kitchen, and turned back to the open cabinet, thinking that maybe if she could find a bag of bread of the next try, when all of a sudden, in the same cabinet that she had just opened, was the bread. Nothing else was in the cabinet, just bread. Same scenario happened with the flour. Gasp. They did have a magical restocking pantry. _Hmmm…. _She closed the cabinet.

She place an image of a bag of Dorritos in her mind, or more specifically, an open, family size bag, of nacho Dorritos that was half empty, due to the fact that she had eaten the other half at Luke's. Selecting a random cabinet, she opened it, and sure enough, the bag of Dorritos appeared right in front of her. The cabinets must work the same way as Magnus's magic, it can make things poof from one place to here. Meaning that this bag of chips came from the pantry at Luke's place. Aww… poor Luke. Clary promised she'd leave the other half for him. Could she send it back?

She left the Dorritos in the cabinet, closed the door to it, and imagined an empty cabinet, and the pantry back at looks to have an open, half empty bag of Dorritos nachos. Opening the cabinet again, she saw it was empty.

An idea occurred to her. She began to think about food, canned corn, canned vegetables, canned peaches, lots of canned stuff, then bags of chips, juice pouches, water bottles, spoons, bowls, cups, rice, pizza, uncooked pasta, salt, can openers, and lots of other things.

Then Clary opened all of the cabinets. Everything that she had thought of, was in the here. Even the non-food things. She closed all of the doors, and began to think of that commercial she saw to help children in Africa. She pictured the homes that were displayed on the screen, and thought hard of the little faces that looked so sad and hungry. After that, she opened the cabinets, making sure that everything was gone. It was. She did this three more times, thinking of food, them checking to make sure it was there, then thinking of Africa, and seeing it was all gone.

Ever since that commercial she had a heavy conscious about eating a lot. Now she was guilt free to eat all she wanted!

She began to conjure everything she'd need, and seeing that the refrigerator worked the same way as the cabinets, she took out eggs, milk, butter, frozen waffles, but not frozen pancakes. She made those herself. The kitchen had just about every appliance kitchen needs. The toaster was one of those fancy ones where you could toast up to four at a time, so she shoved four slices of bread into it. On the stove she had cooked bacon and was scrambling eggs. Clary flipped pancakes like a pro.

She was surprised she could make all this, she remembered during her time with Sebastian and Jace, she didn't even know how to make eggs. Ever since then, during her time afterwards, she spent every minute during her mornings watching and helping her mother make breakfast. There are just some things a person had to know how to do on their own.

Well, she wasn't perfect. The bacon was a bit too crisp, she had burned half the pancakes, though the other half seemed to scream 'Eat me!' and the eggs needed more salt, but you know what? The toast was fantastic, and she made coffee, and she learned that a bit of syrup could get rid of the burnt taste in her mouth. She gathered a huge plate piled of food, sat in front of the T.V, fork in hand, switched it on and ate.

She felt like a goddess.

Clary had dragged the coffee table towards her, and rested her plate on it. A large mug of black coffee was on the side. Her left hand searched through the T.V channels while her right stabbed into her eggs. She was feeling rather content, and comfortable.

She hadn't noticed the steps until she Chris sat right next to her on her right, making the couch slope down and for her to topple right onto him.

"Oof," she said, "Sorry," she muttered while trying to get back into sitting position without using him as support.

"Here you go," he grabbed her elbow and steadied her. Clary moved a few inches to the left so that she wouldn't be leaning into him.

"So," Chris started, "You can make food," he sniffed the air, "And it actually smells kind of good. I thought you couldn't make eggs?"

"I learned." Clary responded before taking a bite of her pancakes.

They sat there. Watching the T.V for a few seconds, Clary felt slightly uncomfortable, and almost choked on her toast when she heard Chris's stomach rumble.

He didn't pay any attention to it. Just kept staring at the screen.

Clary ignored it as well, until it rumbled again, and again. _Is he testing me? Or does her really not mind that he's hungry?_

She cleared her throat, suddenly finding it hard to speak, looking for words.

"Are you okay? You look like you're trying not to throw up." Chris scrutinized her.

"No, I'm fine," she said, trying not to sound like she was lying. Where was the comfy, relaxed feeling they had going on yesterday? "I was, just going to say that i-if you want, there are, um, extra food, I made too much, y'know?"_ Now was that so hard?_

"Okay you look sick. Maybe I shouldn't have any of what you made," he smirked.

She scoffed, all uncomfortness gone. "Excuse me? At least I tried, and my food is _delicious_." She took a huge bite out of a slice of bacon and chewed on it, savoring the flavor, ignoring that she bit the burnt side.

Chris stared at her with a blank expression, for a moment, but no too long as to so that it was awkward. Then he stood up, went to the kitchen, and began to compile his own breakfast plate. He had pretty much the same thing that Clary had, a pair of pancakes, a waffle, some toast, a side of eggs, and a few strands of bacon. As for a drink, where Clary had coffee, he had served himself some orange juice. _Probably from the magical refrigerator._

He came back over to his seat, but instead of placing the plate on the coffee table he put it on his lap. Clary couldn't help but watch as he took a bite of everything, like he was a food critic and was testing everything. After what seemed like forever to Clary, he turned to her, she looked away like she didn't care what he thought of her cooking, but wasn't doing so well.

"The bacon's too crisp, the pancakes are burned, the eggs need more salt, and the waffles needed more time in the toaster." He took another bite of toast, "But overall, not bad, just like Valentine used to make."

Like Valentine. She cooked like her father. Wait. Valentine used to cook for Chris? Well, not that Clary suspected anything special, but Jace said he had servants and maids, so Clary thought that maybe, Chris had someone caring for all those things for him. The thought of Valentine standing in a kitchen, with a wooden spoon in his hand and an apron that said 'Kiss the chef' didn't seem possible to her.

Hold up. She cooked like _Valentine? _She looked at her plate with sudden disgust, the maple syrup no longer seemed sweet. She pushed it away, taking what was left of the bacon and ate it with her coffee.

"You're not going to eat anymore?" Chris said swallowing down his eggs.

"I'm not hungry anymore," She pouted.

"Suit yourself," he shrugged and calmly cut his pancakes into pieces and ate them. "Like I said, overall, it's not bad."

She continued to sit and pout, certain the she wasn't hungry anymore, when her stomach betrayed her and rumbled. She sighed and pulled her plate towards her again, and took a bit of her bacon. _It's not the food's fault._

As she continued to devour her breakfast, she didn't notice the smirk that Chris was trying to hide behind his mouthful of pancakes.

_40 minutes later….._

_Ughh, bad idea Clary, VERY bad idea….._

She felt like her overstuffed toy cat, whom she named Garfield at age six. After she finished eating her food, she decided she still had room for more, so she served herself again, getting a raised eyebrow from Chris when she sat back down with her new restocked plate.

At first eating the food felt good, then she felt like she should stop, and then she was at that point where your stomach screamed _NO MORE_ and she was forcing herself to open her mouth to take in another forkful. Clary didn't like leaving a full plate, even if she was the one who made it.

She slouched on the couch, hand on her belly, trying to keep nausea down. She could here Chris chuckle when she slowly penguin-woddled to the kitchen to put her dishes in the sink. When she made it back to her seat she had to ease herself down because she felt like any sudden movement would make her burst like a piñata.

Chris wasn't making it any easier.

"You look and sound like a pregnant women," He commented when she had finally gotten comfortable.

"Shut up," she moaned. "That was delicious, and I didn't want it to go to waste."

"You could have wrapped it up and left it for later you know," he chided her.

"Yeah," she covered her mouth suppressing a burp, "but breakfast food is for, you know, breakfast."

"You are just an endless pit, I don't know where you hide it all, no, I don't even know how you do it." He leaned back into couch, matching her slouch.

"Whaddaya mean?" She really didn't care. She had heard from Simon over and over again on how most girls hated Clary on how she was such a small thing, yet could eat as much as a sumo wrestler.

"Sometimes, you go hours, even days, without eating, yet sometimes you can eat just about, two, three, four times what would be necessary to fill a girl your size." He remarked.

"Don't exaggerate, I just have a really fast metabolism." She whined. Clary was so filled that she felt like complaining about everything. "I'll just wait until the food goes down."

"Whatever you say," He changed the channel to some documentary of World War I.

It was explaining how the war started with the death of the Prince of Austria, and how because of that Serbia and Austria went to war, so they started to call their allies, and _those _allies called their allies, and_ their _allies called out theirs until the whole world was a two sided fight. Allies and Axis.

"I never understood that," Clary said out loud, "I mean, I get that they'd call their allies, but _all_ the major countries getting together and fighting because of some guy they probably didn't even know existed?"

"It's because they all had something against each other, they were all wanting to bring out their guns and men to rip each other to bits, the death of this guy just gave them a reason to." Chris explained, "I know this and I didn't even go to school."

"That's just stupid, who wants war?" Clary questioned.

"People who want power," Chris said in an off tune, like he was thinking about something else.

Oh. Valentine wanted war. Against Downworlders and Shadowhunters who didn't agree with his opinion. And Chris had been a part of it. Only Chris didn't have anything against Downworlders, like Valentine, who had been holding a grudge for years, Chris just wanted blood. Blood and death.

Does he still want them? Clary was dying to know, but preferred not to ask.

Instead, she gave her attention back to the T.V, watching as men loaded guns, and ran across bomb pitted grounds. The documentary was pretty gruesome and lifelike, yet the narrator for the thing sounded so bored, as if he had told the same story one too many times. A scene of no-man's land showed a dirty brown field, several dead bodies strewn here and there, barbed wire tangled everywhere. _All this trouble for one man's death, but even so, it was bound to happen. The whole war was a jug of gasoline, and Prince's death was just the match that started the fire._

Clary couldn't help but relate the death of the Prince of Austria to herself. What if because of her disappearance, her friends and family made an attempt to locate anyone who anything about Chris, just to get her back. And in their try, Chris would send his anti-Shadowhunters to kill them, and her friends would look to the help of their friends, Luke would call to his wolf pack, and Jace and the others would call for the Fairy folk for assistance. This would cause for Chris to call in more support, like summon more demons…

No. She couldn't let an all-out war blow out just because of her, she had to stop this before it started. But maybe she was just exaggerating, she was just one person, one girl, surely it wouldn't happen.

But then again, Clary bet that if she talked to the Prince the day before of his death if he thought that most of the world would go to war after him, he would say no as well.

Better be cautious than regretful later.

Clary reached for the T.V remote and pressed pause.

"Hey, they were just about to show what happens during amputations," Chris said, but trailed off when he turned to face her, seeing the seriousness in her eyes.

"Chris, if Jace and Jocelyn, and Luke everyone, started looking for me, fighting to get me back, would you send your Demon Shadowhunters, after them?" Clary asked without hesitation. She couldn't be hesitant now.

Chris stared straight at her, noticing her straightforwardness, and knowing that beating around the bush wouldn't work with her. So he told her exactly what she asked for.

"I promised you I wouldn't, therefore I won't. My demon Shadowhunters are elsewhere, hiding, you could say hibernating, but they won't do anything in the meantime." He finished.

"What if they found a way to get here, would you fight against them? Would you try to hurt them?" Clary was feeling very protective of what she considered to be her very strange family. _Jace, Simon, Isabelle, Alec, Jocelyn, Luke, Maia, Jordan, even Magnus, Maryse, and even Luke's wolf pack…..I won't let me be the cause of this…_

"That depends," Chris stated.

"Depends on what?" she asked.

Chris scooted closer to her, and took her hand. Clary was too preoccupied of her loved ones to care.

"That depends if you break our deal and fight with them," He said, looking right at her, like he was daring her to even try to go against him.

So that was it, somehow she wasn't surprised. Their deal was that if she stayed with him, everyone she cared for would be spared. Break the deal, everyone could get killed. It was simple, yet menacing.

Slowly, she nodded her head, pulling her hand gently but firmly from his.

Chris looked at her up and down, making Clary feel like a patient in the doctor's office.

"Now that you've brought this up, I think it's about time I give you some rules, before things get out of hand," Chris stated.

"Rules? On what?" Clary asked, astounded.

"Rules, or rather restrictions on how things will be while you're here," He responded, "For one, you'll always be with me, when we're at home, and when we go out."

"Go out?" Clary asked another question.

"You didn't think we would stay in here all the time did you?" Chris looked amused, as if she were a little kid who still thought the moon was made of cheese.

"Well, not really but-," Clary started before Chris interrupted her.

"Second of all, you will not have any steles, or any other weapons unless we are training or if I permit you to have them, such as situations where there are demons to kill and such," He continued.

"Training?" Clary had to wrap her mind around that, "Going out to kill demons? And such? Well what else are you planning to go out and kill?"

Chris chuckled. "I only said that for situations where you will be allowed to possess a weapon."

"As for training, Clary," He took her other hand this time, without taking his eyes off of her, "Do you want to continue being a Shadowhunter?"

His question caught her off guard, but she knew the answer to it immediately. Yes. Of course yes! She had just barely started to get into her natural Shadowhunter instincts, to feel the high of battle, the feeling where you were in control of everything, where you could do anything, kill anything. The feeling was better than any type of high. It was like something inside of her had been awakened, like her whole life she was this shaken up soda bottle, just waiting for someone to open it up and burst. Her whole life, she felt like something was missing, like there was something she didn't know about that no one was telling her. Clary didn't want to just give it away! However, it would be Chris who was training her, he was trained by Valentine, in a way, it would be like she was learning from her own father. Clary didn't feel up for that, but if she could learn something from Chris, maybe Clary could use it against him to find a way out of here.

All of this ran through Clary's mind in an instant, so when she answered Chris, it sounded as if she was completely sure.

"Yes, I do want to be a Shadowhunter," she told him without any hesitation.

"Well then," he said, pulling her hands so that they were both standing, "Let's go train."

Before they left however, the T.V switched from the show they were watching to a news story, the lady standing in front on them with her microphone seemed to say something important, and before Chris could calmly turn the T.V off, Clary heard the lady say, "Yes that's right John, an enourmous supply of food has just miraculously appeared in a shelter meant for poor people in Africa, no one knows how the food got there, but residents there are not complaining, and are thanking the angel that left them this blessing..."

Clary smiled.

**So...**

**Watcha think?**

**Comment, review, or favorite! Orelse Clary will burn your bacon :D**

**Clary: It wasn't that bad!**

**Chris: yeah it was.**


	3. Training, Chicago, and a new rune

**Lacie-Abyss: Hello! Thank you everyone who has read my story so far! Even for those who didn't read it but just clicked on it XD Special thanks to my reviewers, even though there are only, like seven so far, it just shows that a little motivation keeps me going! XO Anyway, since some people like this, I shall continue!**

**Clary: Lacie-Abyss, I swear if you make me cook again in this one…..**

**Chris: I thought you said you were good at cooking ;P**

**Clary: Well **_**some**_** people *coughcough* Chris *coughcough* think that I burn the food too much.**

**Chris: Now Clary, cover your mouth when you're coughing you'll get the viewers sick.**

**Lacie-Abyss: NO! Don't do that D: Then they won't read anymore!**

**Clary: You two….. Anyway Lacie-Abyss owns nothing but the insanity that goes on in her head.**

**Lacie-Abyss: Clary…*death stare***

**Chris: Better hope the training I'm going to put you in helps you in this one**

**Enjoy!**

**Clary POV**

Clary had never thought that a knife that had the blade-length of her wrist to her fingertips would eventually weigh down her whole arm.

For probably the one hundredth time, she wiped sweat off of her forehead, and got back into the stance that Sebastian had said would help her get a better shot at throwing the knife at its target.

Yes, he was back to Sebastian now, but only in Clary's head. And only in here, it seems. Clary quickly learned that when Chris went back to doing what he did best, taking weapons of demon-destruction and utilizing them to do that purpose, he had this look upon his face, one that told Clary that he knew exactly what he was doing, and had probably been doing it since he could walk on his own two feet, as for which Clary had just started late last summer. That gives him his whole life's worth of training compared to Clary's measly few months.

Sebastian claimed that in a few weeks he would have her in perfect Shadowhunter form. But how he was going to compress years of training into the span of several weeks, Clary's small body that couldn't even take P.E wanted to know. But he was a good instructor, he seemed in the zone, a cool, calm and collected person who had long since learned the art to kill. That was why Clary's inner mind had gone back to referring him to Sebastian, not Chris. Chris was her brother, the new person who wanted her to be with him, and happy to be with him. Sebastian was the half demon that wanted to kill, kill, kill.

Even though, Sebastian managed to keep himself down. His hands holding a seraph blade seemed almost familiar to Clary, not because it was, but because it felt right that he held one, it fit the image of Sebastian in her mind. He was a mix of both Chris and Sebastian, which was weird, because they're the same person, yet different.

Sebastian was what she feared, an evil demon craving her, but Chris was kinder to her, in the short time that she had been there, he had done nothing to her, was big brotherly, but Chris still left an uncomfortable flutter in her nerves. Somehow, this blend of Chris and Sebastian was perfect, just the right amount of big brother, and still an awesome Shadowhunter.

This left a dizzy confusion in Clary's mind, and had no understanding of what she was trying to determine about Chris/ Sebastian. But somehow it was perfectly clear. In the training room, he was Sebastian. Outside of it, he was Chris. Simple.

But on the outside she still called him Chris.

After he had offered to train her, he led her to the wall in the kitchen, right next to the fridge, and pressed his hand to it. The image of a wall faded away until an oak door revealed itself.

"How did you do that?" Clary asked, perplexed.

"The door is enchanted, and will only open if I desire," He flashed a cocky smile at her, "but if you're good maybe someday I'll make remove the enchantment so that you can access it whenever you want."

If she was good. Meaning that if she stuck with him long enough and gave him proof that she meant business that she would keep her deal, which Clary thought she was doing well so far. She has had no chance to find any means of escape, or given any reason to. Her family was safe. She was okay. She would have to give this some time.

When Chris had opened the door, a long tunnel that looked like it was made of compressed Earth, slowly sloped downwards. The tunnel led down for about thirty meters, a lantern that glowed green witchlight posted every 3 meters lighted up their descent. At the end of the tunnel, another door, similar to the one that they had entered through, stood in front of them. Chris opened it, and they descended on winding stairs, more witchlight lighting up the walls. They seemed to go on forever, until they reached yet again another door.

"This one isn't sealed by enchantment," Chris had told her, "Go ahead, open it."

Clary clasped the cold metal knob, it had on old style to it, and needed an old skeleton key to open it instead of today's modern keys. But it wasn't locked, so she had no need of a key. On the other side of the door, Clary gasped.

"That's, but…that's impossible!" Clary's mouth hung open, staring at the wonder of the training room.

It was enormous. It stretched out to be larger than the training room back at the Institute in New York. It could easily swallow a football field, maybe two, if Clary knew the exact measurements. The ceiling was so high up, which made no sense because they hadn't gone that far down. The top of the roof was criss-crossed with beams, thirty meters or higher up. The floor was made of a soft wood, and the walls were constructed of wood. Here and there were support beams, and hanging on them from nails were all sorts of weapons a shadowhunter could ever need. There were seraph blades and steles, swords crafted from the most shining metals, and decorated handles that made it belong on a fireplace, not in the hands of someone who'd use it to gut a demon. There were whips, much like Isabelle's, and crossbows, maces, nun-chucks, and brass knuckles. There were knives decorating the beams high and low, some that would need a ladder to reach.

But that wasn't what made Clary gasp. There were windows in this training room, where you could see a nice blue sky. But that couldn't be, they had gone down so much, they should be so deep underground, one hundred meters at least, yet here they were.

"More enchantment," Chris had explained, walking from behind her and gesturing with his arms to the room before them, "I don't know why, but this house is magically connected to an abandoned castle somewhere deep in Switzerland, right now, we are in one of the turrets, even though this room is square, more magic, I'd assume."

"How come no one has found it?" Clary had asked him, "Shouldn't someone have found a castle like this, if one of its turrets are this huge, the castle must be gigantic."

"The castle is concealed, much like the Institute, and even if anyone found it, the only entrance to here is through this door," he nodded to the door they had just came through, "but right now that door connects this turret to our house, unless we remove the magic that connects the two places, the only way to get in is through the windows."

"What happens if anyone from the other side, from the inside of the castle, would try to enter the turret?" Clary asked.

"I'm not sure, I guess the magic affecting the door would either not allow the door to open, or it would open, revealing the turret, but not showing what is inside." He explained.

"So…..if someone were to walk in right now, they'd see an empty turret, no weapons, or people?" Clary tried to make sense of this.

"Precisely," He nodded in agreement. He strided over to a wall with a target painted on it in blue and red paint. He shrugged off a jacket he had been wearing, revealing his red shirt.

Clary was still wearing her green shirt/dress, and slowly, still taking in the room, walked towards him. He had given her three knives, plain steel, no fancy decorating, and told her to stand five meters away from the target. He then instructed her to try to throw all three knives as close to the center as possible.

_One. _The first knife hit pretty close to bulls eye, but didn't sink in deep enough, so it hit the wall and ricocheted off. A clank as the metal struck the ground sounded.

"Put more force into your throws," Chris, at this point was when he became Sebastian, adjusted her arms and showed her how to pull her arm back and the flick of her wrist that would help her get a better aim and achieve the perfect strength.

He demonstrated, placing his feet roughly two feet apart, his body slightly turned to the side, he folded his elbow in, his throwing arm, and flung the knife. It soar, a blur in the air in front of Clary. She didn't see it. One second Sebastian held the knife, the next it was sunk up to the hilt. Bulls eye.

Writer's POV: All fighting tactics and advice shown here on how to handle weapons is NOT true. I have no clue how to handle these so please to practice any of the training done by Clary and Sebastian. DO NOT TRY THIS ANYWHERE, ANYTIME, UNLESS YOU ARE A SHADOWHUNTER, IF SO PLEASE CONTACT ME VIA PM.

Clary tried to do exactly what he showed her to do. After a few tries, she managed to get all three knives in the center of the target.

_One._ The knife flew, making a swoosh sound as the knife edge cut through the air, and thumped as it penetrated the wood on the target, the knife halfway to the hilt.

_Two. _This knife flew faster, becoming more a blur, almost like Sebastian's demonstration, but not quite. It sank ¾ of the blade into the wood.

_Three._ This time, it flew faster, still not as fast as Sebastian's, but it was fast. Also, this time, her eyes could follow the blade's movements, seeing it go straight forward, knowing exactly where it was going to land before it was anywhere near the target. It didn't sink all the way to the hilt, but it was close.

The knives formed a triangle in the circle that was the center of the target. The target was made of a center circle, and two rings around it, the inner ring being red, and the outer ring being blue. The center circle wasn't painted, so it was just wood colored. The whole target in diameter was about four and a half feet.

When she showed Sebastian, she observed the positions of the knives. Clary had to admit, she was pretty proud of herself, and part of her more selfish side expected him to praise her, so her expectation sank when Sebastian said, "Your form is still off, you have to be able to keep it exactly the same for each throw."

Clary had crossed her arms and put her right foot out. "And how can you tell my form was off, you weren't even watching."

He pointed at the blades. "Look at the blades, if you had kept them all the same, they would all be as deep into the wood as the other, this one is halfway, this one is three fourths of the way, and that one is pretty close."

Clary huffed. "So? At least I hit the target! Isn't that what's important when hunting demons? Just hitting them?"

Sebastian had chuckled, "You've been watching Jace way too much, just _hitting_ them, might not help all the time."

So he instructed her to do it again, having her pull down the knives, which was tough, she had to place both feet on the wall and pull, resulting in her nearly landing on her head had Sebastian not caught her just in time. With all three knives, she went back to place, getting into form. Sebastian though, stopped her from throwing the first knife, telling her her form was off. This time, he didn't just tell her how to her form, he showed her. He placed his hand on her forearm, and moved it to where it should be. He nudged her feet a few inches farther apart and pulled her chin down, making her knuckled level with her eyes. He put his hands on her shoulders and raised them a bit. Clary had felt a bit self-conscious about his hands on her skin, he was standing a bit too close, she could feel his breath on her neck. She felt his fingers on her bare shoulders linger for a bit, then he stepped back and told her to try again.

All three knives landed in a closer, smaller triangle, all of them sunk all the way into the hilt.

Even Sebastian slightly smiled, the corners of his lips turning up. "Okay now, let's try it again, but this time stand ten meters away."

So that's how Clary had spent the last two hours. She had thrown the knives again and again. Pulling them off of the target, continuously. All with Sebastian's eyes on her. About thirty minutes ago, she had managed to make all three knives hit the center again, so Sebastian had pulled her another five meters back, showing her how to throw the knives in a different form that isn't as hard on a tired body, but still got the job done. This was getting harder for her, she could hardly make the knife hit the wall, much less have the strength to make them stick. She took a deep breath, wiped sweat off of her forehead again, and got back into position once more.

**Sebastian/Chris POV**

She was exhausted, yet wouldn't stop, probably until she dropped from fatigue or he told her to stop. He had no intention of stopping her just yet, and she wasn't going to quit anytime soon, so this might take a while.

He had planned on training as well, maybe climb the support beams and do flips off of the beams at the top of the roof. But he was captivated watching Clary, and decided against training. He would be her instructor, he said advice on her form, and every now and then pulled the knives out for her so that she wouldn't tire out too fast.

Her cheeks were rosy red, her fire red hair plastered to her forehead. She had long ago tied her hair into a fluffy ponytail, and Sebastian could see her muscles work as she reeled her arm back and threw the knife again. Her eyes were focused, yet cloudy. Focused on the task, and cloudy on everything around her, nothing existing but the target. Taking this advantage, he took the time to observe her. Her green dress was sticking to her body with sweat, showing her small body. Her skinny jeans made the best out of her legs, showing the curve of her calves and thighs. Her arms and chest and face were sleek with sweat, and were colored with blood flow.

He was impressed by how quickly she was developing, though he knew that she would be able to be as good a Shadowhunter (okay maybe not_ that_ good)as he was. He knew that she doubted herself, so he was going to use that doubt to push herself. She'd give her goals to reach, so that she would strive to achieve them. He wouldn't be the one pushing her, it would look like it, considering the goals he'd given her. Though he could throw a knife at fifteen meters, at twenty meters he began to lose control of the blade. When you're close to a target, you can almost see the path the knife will take before you even throw it, but at larger distances it's harder to see.

No, she would push herself. He knew enough about her that he was positive she wouldn't let herself fall behind.

Sebastian really did want Clary to get stronger, though he'd had to keep an eye for exactly _how _strong she'd be. He wasn't sure why he wanted her to though. He had told Clary that is was so that he wouldn't have to watch her so much if they were ever fighting demons. He didn't want extra weight to handle. That was his reason, and he was prepared to stick to it if Clary ever asked again.

Although, watching her practice, deep in his mind, he struggled with the fact that maybe it was because he wanted someone as equal as him, someone to be like him. He remembered at that club, when Clary and Jace were high on that silver stuff, he tried to show her how alike they were in the reflection of the water in the fountain, but she couldn't see it. Maybe now, if she could see how strong they could both be, she would see. Sebastian didn't truly realize, and didn't want to accept it, but under his subconscious, he wanted someone to be like him. Clary would be good to spar with, someone to train on instead of having to scour for half-witted demons, and slice inanimate dummies. As soon as Clary was better, he's spar with her, one on one, not the way they did before she destroyed their other home, that was a surprise from her, and Sebastian was still reeling from how she caught her off guard. Okay, so maybe the fact that he wanted to fight her was part revenge. She didn't beat him, but she had been able to damage him and catch him while he wasn't looking, and that had put a tick in him.

Still, though, this was to both of their advantages, Clary would be more advanced in fighting, and Sebastian would have a new partner.

That is if she didn't betray him first.

Sebastian's mind went back into itself, half still observing Clary, half determining his information on her. He had done this about a million times already, mostly during breakfast, and now while she was training, but he had to do it again, just in case he'd missed something.

Clary had agreed to their deal. So by that, she would do anything in order to protect those that he would threaten if she disobeyed. So it would be easy for him to keep her down in case she tried anything funny. So far, she had been acting well kept, hasn't been too poky in trying to find a way out, which in his opinion, must be some real restraint on her part. If Clary ever had the chance she would be looking all over for a way to escape, but won't due to fear for her loved ones. She was agreeing to him training her. He still couldn't determine if that was because she wanted to train, was trying to get better so that she could get the upper hand on him, or just doing so because he asked.

He'd have to watch out for that.

_Thwack. _Sebastian looked back up at Clary, and noticed that she had managed to make one of the knives stick into the target. It wasn't in the center, and was barely holding onto the wall, but it stuck. He watched in curiosity as she lifted the next knife, wondering if she would be able to make this one land better. Her form was still right, a bit off, but her movements were right, slightly sluggish, but precise. They way her muscles tensed before she chucked the knife made him believe for a split second that this knife would make it through the center , and all the way into the hilt, but Clary's green eyes faltered, her eyelashes fluttering, and the knife clattered to the ground.

She bent over, hands on her knees, taking in deep breaths. Her face was no longer rosy, it was tomato red. How long had he been just standing there watching her? He took a look at the sky outside.

Oh, she had been stuck at fifteen feet for the past two hours. Meaning that she had been throwing and plucking knives from that wall for over four hours. He watched, observing Clary as she regained control of her breathing, and stumbled towards the wall to pull the knife from it. The knife was in the lowest part of the target, so she didn't even have to lift herself onto her tiptoes to reach it like she would if it were in the center. Still, she had to use both hands to pry it free, her hands slipping from sweat. She walked back to her place, picking up the dropped knife. Placing two of the knives in her left hand, and the one she was prepared to throw in her right, she regained form. Her face was still flushed, her chest still rising unevenly, but she had gotten back composure.

_Alright, this will be her last one for today_, Sebastian thought.

_ .Thwack. _All three knives hit the wall, but not even close to the center. At least they sticked to the wall.

Before Clary could walk back to the target, Sebastian quickly strode over to them, and with three quick flicks of his wrist he released them and held them to him.

"What?" Clary looked at him with questioning eyes, "Did I do something wrong? I haven't finished yet so what's going on?"

_Well for one, it's been four hours, you're exhausted, it doesn't look like you can lift your own head, much less fling more knives, you're red and your breathing isn't right, so there._

But Sebastian didn't voice his conscience, which was starting to annoy him, instead he said, "I'm bored. We've been here for four hours and you don't seem to be improving from where you are now. I can't stand being here much longer, plus I'm hungry, so let's go out to eat." He stated all this with a bored expression, sounding pompous.

"We've been in here HOW LONG? God, it didn't feel that way," Clary's green eyes shown with astonishment, "and I you're so bored, why don't you train?" She accused him.

"For many reason, one, I don't need to train, two, as your instructor I must keep a constant eye on you at all times, and three, even if I did train, I'd need someone to fight against, and you are obviously not ready for that yet." He had turned his back to her, and was hanging the knives back where they belong.

"I'm not ready yet?! Why don't we go on and try it? Huh! I can take you!" Clary crossed her arms and gave him a glare.

Chris, YES NOW HE IS CHRIS BECAUSE TRAINING IS OVER, gave out a short laugh, "Oh please, you have no energy left. I bet if I nudged you on the head you'd tip over."

"That's not true! You don't know me, I once ran a marathon, yes I ran a marathon don't you lift an eyebrow at that! And when I was done everyone that I was dead tired, but when Simon stole my ice-cream that Luke had bought me I chased him for another hour! I have like, mountains and mountains of energy just waiting to be used!" Clary fumed.

Chris had to laugh again, "Oh well, I expect to see that energy one day when we truly need it." Clary looked like a red Chihuahua with a bad temper, upset with him for not thinking she could hold on. He knew she HATED when people thought of her as weak.

Of course, he knew that she wasn't. She was his sister, they had to have something in common?

Clary continued to argue with him, saying that he just didn't want her to get better than him at knife throwing, taunting him, but he broke her off and said, "Yeah, alright, let's go so you can take a shower and change. We're going out to eat, I don't need you burning food anymore."

Clary practically broke down, as he expected, and he rushed towards the exit of the training room as she grabbed a knife from the wall and flung it towards him, hilt first, screaming, "I DID NOT BURN IT! YOU ATE IT ANYWAY! CHRIIISSSSSS!"

She chased him up the winding steps, Chris chuckling under his breath, she shrieking at him. But somehow, he could feel she wasn't really mad at him. He felt something strange, something he hadn't felt before, ever.

Then he realized something. They were acting like siblings. Part of him rebelled against this, but another part was content with it. Clary must've realized this too, because halfway up, she had stopped shrieking, but couldn't stop laughing.

**Clary POV**

Damn him. She was really mad at him. Yet….not mad? She couldn't explain the feeling. She'd never felt it. Except with Simon, but he was different.

As Clary stepped out of the shower, she looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. Same red hair, now sopping wet, so her hair looked darker, almost like blood. She had used cold water to cool herself down, so her body was pale, bringing out the green of her eyes. She raised her right arm, and could've sworn it was more bony and skinny this morning. Now she could see the beginning of muscle form on it. At least Clary wished it was true. Probably just her head.

She chose something different to wear. She always wore greens and yellows, to make herself stand out, but for some reason she just wanted to blend in. She had yet to ask Chris where they were, so she had no clue what to put on. Was it hot, cold, raining, humid, foggy, dry?

Clary had decided to wear pants. She didn't want shorts, or a skirt or dress, even if it was hot, it wouldn't bother her. They were dark blue bell jeans, that were slim at the thighs and upper calves, then shot out into a bell shape. For a shirt, she wore a dark blue v-neck with sleeves that were made from lace. The lace had rose patterns, and there was more on the hem. She was wearing a black spaghetti strap shirt underneath it because the v-neck went far too down, and Clary felt like she didn't have the proper cleavage to show that off. The shirt was sort of loose on her ribcage, but not baggy, so it didn't make her look like a twig.

She decided against any makeup, and just left her hair curl down her shoulder, loose and tangled but she didn't care.

Clary was about to step out of her room, but stood still at the threshold, looking back into it. It was really bare, and for the first time throughout her almost two days here, she considered decorating it.

_Maybe a poster here_, Clary thought to herself_. And I could place a couple of easels right there, I could nail up some boards to the wall to hold up paint, brushes, pencils, her color pencils, water colors, and the ledge near the window could have all of her sketch books, something to stare out at when she was bored… Oh! What if I paint a mural on this wall, I would need blue artist tape, some overalls, what if it was a collage of all the animes I've watched….._

Stop. That was enough, she had no intention of becoming attached to this place. If she did, it would be harder to leave. If she left. Could she leave? No it was better to not create any sort of attachment here, to not feel like this place was hers, she would have to take every advantage there was if she wanted to escape, whenever that would happen.

But still, the thought of decoration the room, brought comfort to her. Jocelyn had never let her paint her home walls, despite Clary's pleading. Her mother had said it was best not to, because then she would not like the mural, then want to paint it again, and again, etc. But here, Chris wouldn't mind. Heck, she bet that if she made an ocean scene in the kitchen he wouldn't mind. He'd buy all the materials for her.

_Maybe it won't be so bad if she just let him get her everything, I can act like I'm grateful, like I am enjoying myself here, so that he won't suspect. It's a two way win. I can get my art supplies, and convince Chris that I mean business._

The problem was, was she enjoying herself? Training was no fun, but she didn't regret the time physically preparing herself. Was she getting accustomed to being here? But that was impossible, it had only been two days.

Clary physically shook her head. These type of thoughts would only confuse her, and it was best not to think them. She'd ride along Chris's ideas, but she would look at every opportunity of escape. That was her plan, and it was a lot better to think about it than to gather her thoughts about whether or not she wanted to leave. Without peering back into the room, she walked down the hall, down the stairs, and met Chris who was waiting for her on the couch.

"Took you long enough," He stood up, and shrugged on a black leather jacket, not even bothering to zip it up. He threw her a smaller jacket, one that cinched at the hips. It was beige, and had a lot of zipper pockets. It was just her size, and had fake fur lining the inside. So wherever they were, it was cold.

"Where exactly are we?" She asked him as she pulled the jacket through one arm.

"Chicago," he simply stated. "The Windy City, Lake Michigan, Sears Tower, or Willis, or whatever its name is now."

"I know what Chicago is," Clary said rolling her eyes as the other arm went into the jacket. It was warm and fuzzy. "It has Navy Pier, I've seen it in post cards."

"Yeah but those are just tourist attractions, most people there don't even know what Navy Pier looks like." Chris shrugged as he grabbed a stele from the coffee table, must have gotten it from the training room while she was changing, and put it in his weapons belt, which was concealed beneath the jacket.

"How is that possible? They live there, how do they not know? Do they live there their whole lives and not visit or something?" Clary was perplexed.

"I guess so." Chris seemed bored with the conversation and he motioned her towards him.

Clary at the time was having trouble with the zipper of the jacket, so Chris took it from her hands, and with smooth motions, zipped the jacket up to her collar bone. "It's chilly," he said.

Clary only nodded as he gave her a stele. Clary reached up to take it, but he hadn't let go of it. She tugged, but Chris wouldn't release it, instead he leaned down, so that their eyes were level, and said, "Remember , you are with me, if I give you this it's so that you can use it in case we see a demon, but if you even try to make a Portal, or do anything to help you escape, I swear Clary, it won't be you who'll be the first one I look for, it'll be your friends."

His eyes had grown blacker, and for that moment Clary could see Chris go away, and Sebastian took his place completely. For that brief moment, Clary was in shock, looking at the monster that had caused her so much trouble. And then it was gone, just like that. He let go of the stele, which Clary hid in her boots. Then he took a seraph blade, and taking her right arm, carefully put it in her jacket sleeve, hilt first. That made it so that if Clary flexed her arm a certain position, the blade would slide right into her palm, without hurting her. Chris didn't say a word about it.

He then walked towards the wall behind the couch, to the place where a door should be, but wasn't. He placed his hand to it, just like the door in the kitchen to the training room, and a modern door appeared.

"Let me guess," Clary said, "More enchantment?"

Chris smirked, not answering. He then reached for the handle, opened it, and pulled it aside so that Clary could take a look at what was beyond. She couldn't help it. She gasped.

They were on the Lake. Literally **on **the Lake. Just beyond the threshold, was Lake Michigan water, sparkling under the dropping sun. It was about four'o clock, and it was fall, so they sun was setting pretty early. The sight was amazing, the water sent little ripples across the surface, it should have entered through the door but something was keeping it back. Probably more magic. Clary could see the Chicago skyline, and Navy Pier with an enormous Ferris wheel in the background. The while scene was so beautiful she felt the push to sit right there and draw it out. She didn't know why Chris was so worried about her leaving, how could she? They were in the middle of the Lake, and Clary didn't feel like swimming to shore.

"How…..how are we getting out of here," Clary said, trying not to sound too mystified but failing. She couldn't take her eyes off of what was in front of her.

"Look to your left." Chris said, and Clary could almost hear the smile/smirk on his face.

She did, and saw a motorboat tied to what would have been a pipe for a hose. Clary didn't even ask why no one had noticed a house floating in the middle of huge lake. It was probably covered in illusions so that no one could see it.

Chris moved in front of her, and as easily as jumping off a step, hopped into the boat. He turned towards her, and held out his hand. "Jump," he instructed.

Clary did jump, but not towards his hand, a bit to the side. She wobbled a bit, but she regained balance and resisted the sudden urge to stick her tongue out at him. Chris looked, hurt? Confused? Impressed? She couldn't tell. He let his hand drop to his side as she walked to the back of the boat where the motor was.

"How do you start this?" She asked. Chris reached her and started to motor, and soon they were smoothly coasting through the water, Chris was careful to avoid all the boats and such and took a wide turn around the main parts of the shore, and headed for a more vacant area to stop.

They stopped away from most of the buildings and such, and Chris tied the boat to a huge rock nearby. Together, they wound their way through the streets, not really going anywhere, but everywhere. Chicago strangely reminded Clary of New York, but then again didn't. She had no idea where she was here, whereas in New York it was impossible for her to get lost.

They followed mostly deserted streets, emptier ones, and Chris pointed out things to her. He didn't know what was around him either, but he was getting his way around pretty well. Clary was hungry and suggested they look for someplace to eat. Chris agreed, and soon they were looking at every restaurant that Clary spotted. He had asked her what she was in the mood for, but Clary said she wouldn't know until she spotted it.

She wanted something practical, something they could eat while they walked. She soon spotted a Subway, and definitely dragged Chris by the arm as she marched him through the doors. When they came out, Clary was holding a foot long Italian BMT with everything except for oils and condiments. She had also taken some Cheetos and a Sprite with her. Chris didn't know what to have, so he just ordered the same as Clary, except he took a bag of Doritos.

They walked and ate and drank. Deciding to go through downtown this time. They spent most of time looking at the tall buildings, and watching street vendors yell out their stock. They entered Navy Pier, Clary had long ago finished her sandwich and was taking her time with the chips, licking off the cheese and letting the Cheeto get mushy in her mouth. She was happy, now that her tummy had food. Chris looked rather enjoyed too. They had gone on some of the rides, Clary insisting that they go on the Ferris wheel. Chris relented, but at Clary's insistence, he shrugged and followed her.

They stood at the back of a very large line, but Chris had grabbed Clary by the hand, jerked her off somewhere. He shrouded them both in glamours, so when they both went to the front of the line, Chris pulled her into an empty car and shut it before anyone could get in.

"Won't they notice that the door shut all on its own?" Clary asked. She could see Chris just fine if she saw through the glamour.

Chris laughed. "Nah, they'll probably think it was something wrong with the technical machinery that locks it or something. The mundanes won't even check, and if someone hears us talking here, they'll dismiss it for something else. They never look into things deeply enough to understand."

Clary couldn't argue. Had she still been living as a mundane, she would have thought the exact same thing. It was a sad thing, to realize that mundanes lived in blissful ignorance, didn't even know the true nature of things that went on, yet they claimed they knew all there was to know. How pitiful. Yet Clary had been one of those mundanes, and she was caught again in all that had happened to her in the past few months.

She hadn't noticed that she had spaced out, staring unaware at the world from above, until Chris had said loudly in her ear, "Hello? Earth to Clary, if you don't want to look at all this and space out, then why did you want to come up here?"

Clary answered without thinking. "To see what it felt like, not what it looked like."

Chris stared at her, and Clary realized that she had spoken what was on her mind, blankly.

"It's because, I've never been on a Ferris wheel before, other than a _really_ cheap carnival ride, this is the first huge Ferris wheel I've been in." Clary spoke with a nostalgic tune in her words. "I just wanted to know how it was to be all the way up here, to feel the world below me, and not surrounding me in constant motion."

For a moment, they were silent. Then Chris spoke up, "This is my first time too, on a Ferris wheel."

Clary looked up and stared at him. They were sitting on opposite sides of the cart. But he stood up, and sat next to her, swaying it a bit. Clary wasn't afraid though. "I've seen the London Eye, the third biggest Ferris wheel in the world, and didn't feel like getting on it, I don't know why. But I should have."

Clary looked him in the eye. "I didn't want to ride that other Ferris wheel either, but Simon wanted me to. The moment I was on it, I knew that I wanted to feel like that again, but on bigger Ferris wheels, not puny ones like those." Clary told him.

"Valentine had asked me at that time, if I wanted to get on it, to see if I was like any other child and if I wanted to amuse myself, but I refused, he never asked me if I wanted to do anything to enjoy myself ever again." Chris said this with nostalgia in his voice, something Clary didn't even know he was capable of, and he looked over his shoulder, to the scene of the Chicago skyscrapers before him. The sun had almost completely set.

They sat in silence until the cart they were in was close enough to the ground. Since the mundanes didn't see anyone in it, Chris and she would have to jump out. Chris jumped first and waited for Clary to jump off. She placed one foot on the ledge of the cart, the other on the seat, her right hand grabbing onto the wires and poles that held the cart to the wheel. The exact moment that she was about to jump, the wheel lurched forward, causing her loose her balance and footing. The surprise didn't even give her time to prepare for the impact. She landed with both knees landing straight onto the ground, pain flaring up her legs to her hips. She would've have continued to fall and smacked her face onto the ground, had Chris not caught her by putting his hands on her shoulders just in time.

Clary couldn't feel her legs. The pain had been so immense that the shock had temporarily stopped the pain, which Clary was grateful for. Though that meant she couldn't move. Chris looked at her, scanning to see the extent of her injuries.

"Can you move your legs?" He asked.

Clary shook her head. "I can't feel them."

"Hold on," He pulled out his stele, and was about to apply an iratze on her, but a group of people were walking towards them, so he put one hand behind her back, and lifted her up, his other arm beneath her knees, bridal style. He carried her away before they could walk over them, and took her behind a ride.

There was nobody there. It was deserted and there was trash everywhere. Not even a homeless person would sleep here. The ugly side of Chicago, one could argue. Chris took her over to a patch of grass that wasn't riddled with filth, and sat her down.

"You're clumsy now and then aren't you?" Chris chided her, "Looks like all of your shadowhunter instincts haven't kicked in yet."

"It was the Ferris wheel, it moved and made me off-balance," Clary pointed out, but didn't defend herself completely. She was starting to get feeling back in her legs, and it was mostly pain. Her pant legs had ripped at the knee, and Clary saw the bloody mess that had become of them. The skin was scraped badly, and there was the beginning of a bruise on both knees at the edge of both cuts. Chris again took out his stele, and Clary lent him her right forearm, pulling up her jacket and shirt sleeve. He drew two iratzes, and Clary could see her knees stop bleeding, and begin to scab over. The bruises started to fade away until they were nothing but pale reminders.

Soon her knees were healed, only a circle a shade darker than her own skin to be shown. Chris took a rag from his weapons belt, was that a handkerchief? She used it to clean off the blood that was remaining. Chris gave her a hand and helped her stand. She tested both legs, pushing weight onto both of them. They both felt fine. Only a slight throb that she could ignore was left.

"Feeling better?" Chris asked her as they made their way back into the open, making sure to wind their way through the people so that they don't bump into them, since they were still concealed in glamour.

"Yeah, I could have drawn the iratze myself you know." Clary told him, only meaning to make small talk. They weren't afraid of talking to each other when no one could see them. Navy Pier was full of people. And noise. People talking everywhere, filling up the place, despite the cold. Clary hadn't noticed before, but it was cold. Her breath made little clouds puff up. Her ears, cheeks, and nose burned with the frosty air brought by the Lake. She hadn't bothered to buy another change of pants. The ripped holes in the jeans looked stylish. She drew on a heat iratze on her wrist, diminishing the cold.

"Yes, but I thought I'd do it." Chris simply stated.

"What for?" Clary questioned.

"Can't a brother want to help his little sister for her own well-being?" He said this hurt, teasing.

They passed by a cotton candy stand, and Clary paused to stare at the machine mixing and mixing. "Mmmmm… cotton candy," she said, dreamily.

"What does it taste like?" Chris asked.

"You've never tasted cotton candy?!" Clary exclaimed, making a women in front of her waiting in line turn around at the noise, and then lift her eyebrow when she didn't find where it came from. Clary took Chris by the elbow and pulled him behind the nearest ride. They got rid of their glamours, then Clary stood in line for cotton candy. Chris stood nearby, giving her money to buy it. She didn't know where he got the money. She'd ask him later. Clary decided to only get one, in case Chris didn't like it, just like her mother would do whenever they would try something new. For Chris's sake, she had the guy manning the cotton candy machine give them a blue one.

They continued walking around, Chris pinching pieces of the cotton candy. When he first tried one, he was confused as he placed the fluff in his mouth. Clary asked what was wrong, and he said that the fluff had disappeared, and that now there was a sugary sweet taste in his mouth. Clary laughed, telling him that that's what happened, that the fluff immediately dissolved in your mouth. She demonstrated by taking a piece and pinching it between her fingers. The blue fluff melted and Clary had a blue stain on her fingers. Chris seemed satisfied, taking more cotton candy and eating it, savoring the sweet taste.

Clary broke away from Chris, telling him that she had to go the bathroom. She gave him the rest of the cotton candy, promising she would come right back when she was done. They were at the edge of Navy Pier, near the entrance, Chris stood nearby as Clary entered the ladies room.

When Clary came back out, Chris was no longer there. Clary stood right there, looking in every direction for his white head amongst the people going in and the people coming out. _Where had he gone? Was this a test, did he expect her to leave at first sight of him gone? Maybe he was hiding and watching her, to see whether she'd run. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction._

No. She was sticking to her word. She walked to a bench that was close, and sat there. She'd sit there and wait for him to realize that she wasn't going to fall for his little game. And if he wasn't playing, but had just gone off somewhere, she'd sit and wait for him to come back. She didn't think she'd know how to get back to the house.

Clary sat at the cold bench for a few minutes, and waited him out. She put her hands in her jacket pockets, and focused on the scene before her. Families came and went, normal families, not families with mothers that ran away from their crazy husband because they poisoned their first child and had to leave to protect their second. Not families where the father figure was a werewolf, and that he was in love with the mother and had been for years. No, they were normal families, with normal expectations, none of the kids would have to risk their lives fighting monsters from nightmares, having to learn how to use weapons that seemed surreal.

As Clary thought, she didn't think in rage. She didn't regret learning that she was a nephilem. Part angel. Okay so maybe more than part. She was just thinking the obvious. She didn't hold hatred for them. The sky was dark now, the sun had set and the last rays of sunshine were fading into dark reds and purples. Again, she regretted that she never carried a bag of Prisma-color pencils with her. She should start doing it.

It had been quite a while, maybe ten, twenty minutes. Not a lot, but it seemed like forever when the heat iratze she had drawn on her arm was starting to fade. The cold was seeking into her clothes, her hair, her skin. She stood up and rubbed her legs, walking around to get blood flowing through them. Her cut jeans, which had actually looked nice, now only felt horrible as the cold breeze from the Lake went in through the slits and chilled her thighs. She tried focusing on little things, the smell of the water carried in the wind, the flashing of the lights from the Pier, to take her mind off the cold.

She was so focused, she hadn't noticed the steps coming from behind her. At first, she thought it was Chris. Ready to yell at him for leaving her there, she turned with her mouth open, about to shout, "What the hell!" when she noticed that the person behind her wasn't Chris.

Her mouth shut as she took in the person in front of her. She didn't know who he was. He stood more than six feet tall, towering over her, and wore a blue beanie over sand yellow hair. He wore a thick wool sweater, jeans and sneakers. He looked about 19.

"Hey there cutie," he smiled at her.

She didn't smile back. "What do you want?" her voice was bold, straight to the point.

"Hey come on, don't be so rude, a nice looking girl like you, all alone here. What happened, did your date show you up?" He stepped closer to her. She didn't budge, and held her ground. She looked him straight in the eye.

"I'm not here on a date," was all she told him, "Now what do you want?"

"I'm here to keep you company, you wanna go around, go on some of the rides, we could go see if they have a tunnel of love here." He smirked at her.

Clary felt a shiver of disgust run down her spine. She suppressed it. "I don't think so, I rather stay here and watch you watch away." She gestured with her hand for him to shoo.

He just smiled and walked even closer. Another step and he could be stepping on her. He whispered, "Come on, don't be stiff. Let's have fun, cutie, I can show you around and we can have a good time." He reached up to touch her chin, but she smacked it away and took a firm step back.

"Look, I have a boyfriend." _One that she may never see again and probably hated her for leaving, but it was a boyfriend. _

"But you said that you're not on a date, so your boyfriends not here." He told her, his eyes getting irritated.

"That doesn't mean I spend my time looking for idiots like you who have nothing better to do but try and seduce young girls," Her voice was icy, she tried to make her eyes look piercing, to make every word she said lash out at him.

But he wouldn't relent, a bit more forceful this time, he walked up to her again, and grabbed her upper arm. "Look, little red. I'm trying to be nice, and to show you a good time, but you're just being a little bitch. Come on, make it easy on yourself, just calm down and follow me."

She yanked her arm away, and he wrapped his arm behind her waist and pulled her close to him, aiming to kiss her by force, but she used the force of his pull to head-butt him in the jaw. He stumbled back, and she lashed at him by slapping him across the cheek. When he looked up, his eyes were full of anger, and….rage? His eyes shifted, into something deeper, colder.

_They look like Sebastian's eyes…._

But before Clary could further analyze, his eyes reverted back to normal. His voice was normal as well, but there was a drop of malice in them, "Okay, if you won't do it when I ask, let's do it by force."

Another voice interrupted him. "She's not doing anything with you."

Clary had never been more happy or relieved to hear Chris's voice. In fact, Clary didn't think she'd ever been happy to hear him. But now she did, and she watched as Chris walked from the entrance of the Pier, with a stick of pink cotton candy in his hand, and a seraph blade in the other.

"My bad," he shrugged towards Clary, but not taking his eyes off of the guy in front of her, "I didn't know that if I left to get more cotton candy that when I came back there would be an asshole trying to hurt my sister."

"Chris….." Clary warned him. Why did he have his stele out? This was a mundane, even if glamour covered it.

But the guy's voice was way different now. It was deep, and sounded like stones being blended together. The sound was guttural, and not good on her ears. "What business do you have shadowhunter, or should I say Jonathan Morgenstern."

"You two know each other?" Clary knew it was probably best to stay out of this, but she couldn't help asking.

"Indeed, do I know you? If I do, I don't recognize you in the human form you've taken up" Chris said.

Oh. That's right, some demons take the form of humans. That's why his eyes had changed like that, why they reminded her of Sebastian when he was in his most demonic state.

Because he, it, was a demon.

_Ew gross….. A demon flirted with me…_

"You don't know me, but I know you. We demons are not ignorant, we keep track of things that go on with you shadowhunters. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer." He chuckled, and the sound made the little hairs on Clary's arm rise. "I know who you are, Jonathan, son of Valentine."

"Don't mention my father." Chris growled. No, not Chris anymore, Sebastian.

His eyes had become rougher, blacker. He was anticipating a fight. Clary didn't know why, but she had to try to end this before it started.

"What's your name?" She demanded.

The demon, still in human form, now with full black eyes, turned towards her. "I don't have to answer to you, but since this will be your last few moments I might as well let you know who your killer is. I am Arjra, and that's all you'll know."

"I've never heard of your name," Sebastian spat.

"There are thousands and millions of demons, do you really expect to know all of them?" Arjra retorted. "Now boy, you've interrupted my fun, now to end with you."

Sebastian didn't say anything, just gave Clary the cotton candy, and approached the demon. "Not here," Sebastian said, "Somewhere more private, as ignorant as mundanes may be, I don't want problems with their police."

Arjra huffed. "Well, I'll take it as your last wish." Together, they walked away from the entrance, and Sebastian led him to a place near the shore, where the water slapped against land. Clary could make out the motorboat where they left it no too far from here. It was completely dark now, black with the exception of street lights and the twinkling of the lights from the Pier.

"Now," Arjra said as he faced Sebastian, "Allow me to show you my true form."

His body rippled, like the surface of water when it's about to boil, and he thrust his head back, his beanie falling off onto the sand. Sebastian takes this as an opportunity to attack, while the demon was morphing, he sliced the seraph blade from shoulder to hip, across his chest. Arjra roared, and Sebastian rammed the point of the blade from below his chin, so that it protruded through it, and stabbed into the roof of his mouth, closing his jaw shut. Arjra flailed. His human body peeled away, like a snake shedding its skin, and a disfigured thing crawled out from the chest.

It was hideous. Two bat-like arms came out of his too large torso, the whole body was the color of dead skin, and was almost translucent. His back curved, giving him a hunched like appearance. His legs looked human enough, until you saw his feet. Claws, like birds feet. With five toes on each foot that ended in razor sharp claws. His head wore a helmet, so he looked like Devimon from Digimon, the show she watched as a child. Altogether, he was large, towering over nine feet tall, his limbs here so large, that if he kept his arms at his sides they would touch the ground. His hands had elongated fingers, which gave her shivers.

But Sebastian didn't seem impressed. He dove in, so fast he was a blur to Clary's eyes, weaving around Arjra's body as Arjra attempted to strike him. Arjra was fast, but Sebastian was faster, cuts appeared everywhere on his body, small ones caused by Arjra's nails and teeth, but that was nothing compared to the damage Sebastian was causing Arjra.

Long gashes were evident all around him. On his back, chest, arms, legs, cheeks. Arjra spat out black blood from his mouth, and Clary saw where the blade had punctured his mouth before.

"You played dirty,"Arjra boiled, "So now, I'll play dirty."

Before Clary realized, Arjra flung himself straight at her. Clary had enough sense to duck and roll out of the way, at the last minute throwing the cotton candy in his face. When she stood up, she pulled the seraph blade out and yelled to Sebastian, who was coming up to her, "What's its name?"

"Daniel!"

Clary brought the seraph blade above the demons spine, and yelled "DANIEL!" as she plunged the glowing blade into the demon's back.

"NOO!" Arjra managed to turn just before the blade sank completely in, leaving only a scratch mark on him. Clary jumped back, nearly avoiding Arjra's hand sweep for her. Sebastian was on him already, trying to get a good opening on him, but Arjra was onto them now. He wouldn't even let the blade touch him. Clary tried to get him while Sebastian had his attention, but to no luck.

He was locked in combat again with Sebastian, and Clary tried to look for openings. She saw one, and went for it, she dove under Arjra, kicking his legs from under him, using his large bulk against him. He almost fell, using his large arms to hold him back up. But Clary used this time to her advantage. Using his body as a ladder, she ran up him, bringing the blade up, and brought it back down onto his face, right through the nose.

Clary could almost feel the blade sink into his boney face, when she felt a tight pressure on her right side. The world turned upside down, one moment she was on Arjra, the next she was lying face first in the sand. She coughed, her side stinging where he must have brought his hand up and swatted her away. But before she could get on her two feet again, something grabbed at the back of her jacket, and pulled her up.

Arjra had grabbed her, and she had dropped her seraph blade, so she could do nothing but flail and kick. He pressed her tight to his chest, wrapping one arm around her torso, and the other around her legs. She could bend her elbows, and bring up her legs, but they weren't much use.

"Release her!" Sebastian commanded. He had a cut going from his temple to his jaw, but he ignored the wound.

"Drop your weapons and leave, and maybe I'll spare her life after I'm done with her."Arjra chuckled.

"Let her go! Now!" Sebastian said again. He was calm, collected, his face expressed no expression other than annoyance. But his hands around the seraph blade were tight around the hilt.

"Or you could attack, in which I shall just eat her..." Clary could feel warmth on the top of her head, and without looking up, she knew that Arjra had opened his mouth and was trying to swallow her head. She thrashed, trying to headbutt him again, but he simply laughed at her attempts.

"I like when my food fights back, but not too much. Back at the beach you were a little too free, now I have you, so feel free to try whatever you want." Arjra stroked he cheek with one disgusting hand.

Sebastian stepped forward, but Arjra made a _tsk tsk _noise, and said, "Careful, I get hungrier when I'm rushed." As he said this, he put his mouth on Clary's neck and bit it. It wasn't a bite strong enough to break the skin, but his teeth pinched and the skin there was delicate. Clary screamed.

Sebastian was beginning to look frustrated.

Clary had a thought. As Arjra released her neck, she pretended to squirm around, but she was really reaching for her boot. Or something in her boot. Sebastian's eyes followed her hand, and he slowly nodded. Clary would need a distraction.

"Hey Arjra, how did someone like you end up looking for little girls to molest?" Sebastian chided.

"What?!" Arjra asked, furious.

"I mean, if you're so tough and mighty, then shouldn't you have lady demons coming all over you, but no, instead you're off looking for little mundanes."

"Why you vermit…" Arjra didn't sound pleased.

As Sebastian continued to tease and taunt Arjra, Clary's mind raced and she got a hand of her stele. _What rune, what rune? I can't draw anything on him, he'd notice before I finished it. Something that I can place on myself….._

Clary's eyes looked at Sebastian, though he was still messing with Arjra, Clary knew that she'd need his strength to defeat him. Clary had tried, Sebastian had tried. I only the both were as equal as the other!

Wait. As equal as the other…. Clary thought back to the rune she created back when Valentine was trying to invade Alicate, sending in troops and legions of demons. Clary had helped by making a rune that joined the strength of Shadowhunters and downworlders. What if she could make something similar, only for Shadowhuntes?

_Come on Clary, focus…_

An image. A rune suddenly appeared right in Clary's mind. It was strange, it reminded her of the other rune, yet it was significantly different. She knew what it would do, yet no to the extent.

This rune may have consequences. But she could deal with those for now. She quickly put an image of Sebastian in her mind, of his strength, and of his knowledge of Shadowhunters. She'd need them, and then she drew the rune on her left wrist.

Clary felt a surge of power. The back of her eyes burned, and her head felt like it was on fire. Sebastian stopped taunting Arjra, and Arjra stopped as well.

"Hey, what did you-" he didn't finish before Clary wrapped her hands on his arm, and with strength she never had, flung him away from her. She retrieved her seraph blade, and as quick as sound she sliced it deep into Arjra's chest. Without another word, Arjra disintegrated into nothing but demon dust.

Clary breathed a breath of relief. She smiled at Sebastian, now Chris. She felt incredible, like a new person. Like she could do anything. She walked over to Sebastian. Only he wasn't as excited as she was. He looked shocked. And stunned. And, fear? No. not fear, more like awareness.

"Clary, what did you do?" His voice sounded whispery, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. She'd never seen him like this.

"What do you mean? I killed the demon, aren't you happy?" Clary sure was.

"I'm glad the demon is gone, but how did you manage to fling him off of you?" Chris asked amazed.

"Oh, I just made a rune that lets you borrow someone's strength and knowledge. I chose you because you're strong, and your knowledge let me know how to be able toss Arjra off, well that and your strength. Now don't think I'm saying your smart and strong, just enough to kill that demon." Clary simply stated. She pulled up her sleeve so that he could see the rune, and he stared at it for quite a while.

"What's wrong? Why are you like that, did you really think I wouldn't be able to pull it off or something, or are you scared because I can kick your butt now?" Clary smiled maliciously. She didn't even know she could smile maliciously. It felt glamorous on her face.

"Clary, you might want to take a look at yourself," Chris gestured towards the water.

"What for?" Clary asked.

"Just look." Chris insisted.

"Are you gonna do the whole, 'see how alike we are' thing like you did in the fountain while I was high on fairy drugs?" Clary said, with her arms crossed across her chest.

"Trust me, we're a lot more alike now than ever." Chris was beginning to smile.

What was making him smile?

"Fine" She trudge to the cold water, taking a few steps in. It was cold, but she didn't feel it now. She didn't feel cold from the water. She was cold from the reflection.

Even though the water was moving and disorienting, even though it was dark and you couldn't see past the surface, Clary could clearly see what Chris was trying to tell her.

Clary's curly, bouncy, short, red hair, and piercing green eyes, had turned into straight white hair, and dark black eyes.

**Clary: WHATT!? I turn into Sebastian! BHCEBHWIB DX**

**Chris: well you did picture him when you drew the rune.**

**Clary: BUT, how, why?!**

**Lacie-Abyss: You didn't turn into him, you've just acquired some of his attributes.**

**Clary: BUT I TURN BACK RIGHT?!**

**Lacie-Abyss: Mhhhh, to be determined….**

**Clary: GAHHHHHH!**

**Chris: What's with the whole, 'now he's chris, oh look now he's sebastian' thing?**

**Lacie-Abyss: I thought it would give you the whole bad guy can be good sort of thing, idk, it's just to show your, umm, multiple selves?**

**Chris: -_O The heck**

**Clary: Lacie do you know about Chicago?**

**Chris: hey look her temper tantrum is done**

**Lacie-Abyss: Why yes, I've been there. BUT I'VE NEVER GONE TO NAVY PIER. My father won't take me, so all I know is from pictures and junk.**

**Chris: hey let's not start about father's….**

**Clary: Yes please…..**

**Lacie-Abyss: Alright then, what does le audience think? Please comment, like, follow, blah blah blah. Suggest future chapters yet I promise nothing**

**Chris: Why would you say that then?**

**Lacie: To give me ideas! Most of the time I'm just winging it, I planned for Clary to teach you how to ride a bike, but instead I made her show you cotton candy.**

**Clary: I teach him how to ride a bike? 0-0**

**Lacie: Maybe…**

**Chris: This oughta be good…**


	4. The sick, the anxious, and the new blood

**Lacie: Man, The City of Bones movie is coming out soon, I don't like this…**

**Clary: Don't you wanna see it?**

**Lacie: Yeah but movies always mess up books, plus the actors in the movies never look like what I want them to….. Have you seen the girl who's playing as you? That is not how I pictured you. **

**Clary: Who is she?**

**Lacie: Lily Collins**

**Clary: OH MY SHE'S BEAUTIFUL! SHE'S ME? Hey where's Chris?**

**Lacie: Chris isn't in the City of Bones so he's not here for now…..**

**Clary: So we're on our own for this?**

**Lacie: Yes. Thank you to those who reviewed and I hope you enjoy this chapter. We get a look at the gang back home.**

**Clary: Jace?! *heart throb* Please give me back my red hair….**

**Lacie: :D I don't own the Mortal Instruments except for what happens in this story. I also own white haired Clary. Enjoy!**

**Clary POV**

"Say ahhh," Chris had been trying to get Clary to swallow medicine, but Clary would only eye the poison with disdain, and refused to take any of it.

"I don't want it!" Clary turned her head to the side quickly, causing a throb to go up in her right temple. She cringed, holding her head lightly.

"You have a high fever and a cold, and you need medicine to keep it down, now take your medicine and stop complaining. It's your own fault for swimming in the cold water, now stop whining like a baby and take your stupid medicine." Chris used his left hand and squeezed Clary's jaw until he pried it open. Clary felt too weak to resist and practically gagged as the cold and disgusting syrup coated her tongue.

She made a pouty face and was about to spit out at Chris, who was leaning over her, when he pressed a napkin to her mouth and said, "Swallow it, or I will make you swallow it. Trust me, you don't want to know what I'll do to make you." He looked at her in the eye, black looking back into black, until Clary swallowed. She held back bile that rose from her throat, and accepted the glass of water Chris offered her.

"I'll be right back." Chris walked out of the room, leaving the door open, as Clary settled back into the many pillows she had arranged on her bed in her big blank room. If she turned her head to the side, she could see her reflection in the vanity mirror that was on top of the drawer to her left. Deep black eyes stared back at her.

Clary could hardly recognize who she was looking at. A figure laid in bed, surrounded by a mountain of pillows, covers pulled up to just under her chest, white, straight hair, strewn around her face, making her already pale face look even paler, with the exception of the feverish flush that she had developed, making her cheeks, forehead and neck look rosy pink. Her mind went back to last night. As soon as she realized that the white haired figure staring back at her from the water, was her, Clary dove straight into the dark water, and headed for the house that was still floating unnoticed on the Lake. She didn't know why she had done that, all she knew was that in her rage to get to the house, her mind was trying to get away. But there was nowhere to go away to, so she simply went back to where she came from. When Clary saw her reflection, she felt a pit of ice in her stomach that didn't come from the cold of the water, it came from a sense of danger. She was the danger, and she had to get away.

Though it made no sense, now that Clary thought about it. She had left Chris behind, who had to take the motor boat and had actually caught up to Clary in it. He had tried to get her to stop, to climb in, but soon gave up and waited for at the front door. When Clary got there, she pushed past him, marched her way into the bathroom, and looked at herself in the mirror. During her swim, she was trying to tell herself that what she had seen was fake, just a trick that Chris had done, to scare her, that Chris was actually lying about his good intentions and his true motive was to get Clary as corrupt as he was. Clary thought what she saw was just a trick of the light, and when she looked at herself again, she would see those familiar green eyes, and red curly hair.

What she saw shattered something in Clary's mind. She stared at her reflection in the mirror for what seemed like forever. Her eyes looking at herself, but not really seeing. Everything that she had associated with herself, everything that she had known that made herself Jocelyn's child, was gone. Clary never realized, but the one thing that had protected her during the whole Valentine rage, that hid her mind from the fact that she was his daughter, was that she looked nothing like him.

That was different now. Looking at herself brought back the cold look of Valentine's face, she could see herself in him now. To her, the red of her mother's hair represented good, and her father's hair was bad. She was Jocelyn's daughter, but now, she felt so far away from her mother.

She was Valentine's daughter.

Clary sank to the bathroom floor, and pulled her knees to her chest, shivering in her soaked clothes, for who knows how long. She hadn't bothered to lock the door, so when Chris came in and told her take a shower, she didn't object. She moved like a zombie, so when she was done and walked back into the room and changed into the clothes that Chris must've left there, she robotically went to bed, and laid there until she went to sleep.

Clary had woken up that morning with an awful fever, from the cold swim, and a sore throat and congested nose. When Chris found her, she was rolled up in the covers and didn't even want to get up. He had tried to push medicine down her throat, something she hated deeply, and had currently left to bring a humidifier to help her breathe. Deep inside Clary knew that he was being uncharacteristically nice, but she was too miserable to even care or notice.

When Chris came back, plugged the device into a wall socket, and cranked it up, the room immediately started smelling like, like, whatever it is they put in those things, Clary didn't know. She could already feel her nostrils easing up, but she still couldn't breathe, so when she talked, she sounded nasally.

"I'm feeling better already," She squirmed in the bed until she was sitting but still leaning on the pillows.

Chris had come to her and sat at the edge of the bed, looking at her. He looked at her for such a long time, that Clary began to twitch with uncomfort.

"What are you looking at?" She questioned, meeting his eyes with a sleepy gaze.

He slowly shook his head. "It's just, so weird to see you like this, you look, so different, yet not."

"Am I different, or am I not different, decide which." Clary stated evenly. But on the inside she could feel herself blushing, and hoping that her fever covered it up.

"It's just, last night, when I saw you captured by that Arjra freak, you, I saw you change, your eyes, it was like a fog had taken over them, and covered up the green. When it settled, your eyes were black. Just like mine." He added that last part with awe, as if he never could imagine someone in the world to be like him. Clary bet he didn't.

"What about my hair, how did that change?" Clary couldn't help but be curious at her mysterious metamorphosis.

Chris looked at her and retold exactly what he saw. "Your hair straightened out, like someone was pulling on the ends of it until there weren't any curls, and then, it was like someone had dropped a bucket of white out on you. From your roots down, your hair color just washed out, it was incredible to see."

"At least now no one will doubt that we're siblings." Clary unconsciously had reached up and pulled at a piece of her hair, expecting it too recoil and bounce when she let it go. She sighed and pulled a strand of white into her view, and rubbed the soft hairs together. Her hair was longer, now that it was no longer curled. It wasn't perfectly straight, sort of puffed away from her face so that some of the strands framed her face. If she stood up straight, the ends would meet at the middle of her forearm.

"Even your freckles are gone." Chris said, not sadly, but just stating the fact. Clary, on the other hand, gave him a double take, before he brought her a smaller hand mirror for her to see. Huh, she hadn't noticed, but now that she did, her face looked empty, blank. She had always hated all of her freckles, but now she felt too simple.

But at the same time, she felt pretty. Like a blank sheet of white paper, just waiting for her draw on.

"How did this happen?" Clary asked staring at the rune that hadn't faded at all this whole time. She looked at it like it would tell her.

"Let me see it." Chris gently but firmly grasped her wrist, and turned it so that he could see the rune that was burnt onto her white pale skin. The rune was a circle, with twelve small ticks around it, making it look like a clock without numbers. But there was only one hand, and that hand was in the spot where Clary assumed twelve o'clock would be. How a clock with only one hand resembled what the rune had just done, she had no idea. Chris looked at it, but then put her wrist back down, with a face that said he wasn't able to fathom it either. When he released her, Clary could still feel traces of warmth that his fingers had left on her. She tentatively rubbed her index finger over the spot where he had just touched.

"All I know, is that when I made that rune, it was just supposed to lend me your strength and knowledge. I didn't know that it would cause," she motioned her hand to herself, "this."

"How long do you think it will last?" He asked her. Was that a flicker of hope in his eyes? No, it's probably just curiosity.

"I don't know, the rune is still on me, and it won't fade. I thought runes were supposed to fade?" Clary asked.

"It depends on their purpose," Chris explained, "Healing runes will fade as soon as the healing part is done, runes for speed, strength, heat, night vision, only give you as much power as you need it, small bursts of energy." Chris cleared his throat, "Other runes, like runes for parabatai, last forever, because when you become parabatai with someone, that connection last for as long as the two live."

"But I don't know how long this one will last, I only needed it to kill Arjra." Clary whined.

"Well, this is another one of your special runes, I guess we'll just have to wait it out and see what happens." Chris said, crossing his arms across his chest at her.

They stayed like that for a while, and Clary felt weird to admit it, but it wasn't uncomfortable. To stay like that, in silence, like they both acknowledged the fact that they had to think to themselves, while still being in each other's company, gave Clary a warm feeling in her stomach.

She suddenly felt the urge to confess something to Chris.

"Hey Chris," She said it so quietly that she wondered if he had even heard her, but he slowly turned his focus on her, saying "What" like a brother would tell his annoying sister when she bothered him.

But there were brother and sister. And she needed to remind him of that.

"Lately, I feel like," Clary couldn't find the words, and couldn't focus on what she was trying to say with him looking at her like that. So she closed her eyes and focused on the feeling she was having, and tried to make sense out of that. "I feel, like we've been getting along well."

Chris's eyes widened, but he hadn't stirred or interrupted her. "You told me to come here, and I felt really bad about coming, leaving everyone I know behind, but you've been, umm, good, nice, brotherly even , and I feel like that's helping a lot. I've never had an older brother, and I always wanted one, so to know that you're actually acting like one, I feel like maybe I can enjoy being here, like I can stay here."

Chris had gotten a sparkle in his eyes, and his lips were slightly parted, but Clary couldn't see any of that because her eyes were still shut. "I remember on the first night here, I told you we'd take things step by step, but now, I realize, that I just want you to be a brother for me. Then maybe, I can finally feel like home here."

Clary kept her eyes closed, waiting for a reaction from him, for him to yell at her, saying that he would do whatever he wanted with her, to scorn her for such thoughts, to laugh, to cry, something. It was quiet for so long that Clary could feel her fever in her cheeks, the soreness in her throat. Instead she felt fingers move aside stray hairs from her face, and a sudden pressure on her temple, warmth, and softness. Clary opened her eyes, and realized that Chris had kissed her. It was tender, loving. He held his face in that position for a long time, Clary could feel the warmth radiating off of him, until he pulled back, and looked at her with a blank face, but it almost looked forced, like he was trying to hide the emotion that she could see in his eyes. But what he was feeling, Clary didn't know.

"You should get some sleep, you'll feel better when you wake up." He said instead. He pulled the covers over her shoulders, and tucked her in. He walked away from the bed, turned off the lights, and carefully closed the door.

Clary snuggled herself in, and still feeling the heat on her temple from Chris's lips, she dreamed a blank, blissful sleep. She didn't know if what she told Chris was true, or if it was just what she thought he would like to hear.

**Jace POV**

Jace felt reckless.

Today was going to be the third day since Sebastian had kidnapped Clary, and he was tired of listening to the 'adults' handle things, or at least what they called handling. They've done nothing but hold so many meetings and conferences that they could have figured out a way for world peace in less time.

Jace paced back and forth, already have worn a trail into Isabelle's carpet floor. They had taken refuge in there, him and Isabelle. Simon couldn't enter the Institute, so he was texting and calling Isabelle for updates about every five minutes. Luckily they had Alec on the inside, considering he was eighteen, so as soon as the meetings broke for lunch or something, he'd come to Izzy's room and tell them what went on. Jace and Izzy had only been in the first two meetings, to tell the Counsel what they had seen. Izzy and Alec recounted that they had fought off a hoard of Demon Shadowhunters from entering the Institute, Izzy passing out when she felt a sharp blow on the back on her skull. Alec passed out the same way, but they both couldn't remember how they went from the stairs, to just inside the doorway, or who had drawn the iratzes they had when they woke up. Izzy said that she had remembered a small figure standing over her, telling her that she was fine and that she'd be okay.

Clary. Jace knew that it was her, so did Izzy and Alec. Only Clary would take the time to make sure the Lightwoods were out of harm's way at the time. He remembered all the attention on him as he described how the Institute was attacked.

"We were all inside, Isabelle and I were training, so we were already dressed in gear, when we first saw the fires, we walked outside armed and ready. The first Demon Shadowhunters attacked us, as they did, I saw Sebastian running around, using black magic to set the grounds on fire. I chased after him, leaving Isabelle with Alexander, who had just gotten there. I found him around back, he had a sadistic look in his eye, I questioned him, he taunted me, and soon we began to fight." Jace remembered the look that Jocelyn gave him while he recounted what happened afterwards, that Clary showed up out of nowhere, telling Sebastian that she'd go with him. Jace had no idea what Clary meant, he said how she looked sad and sorry, and when he glanced at Clary's mom, she had tears running down her face, and angry expression on, while Luke put an arm around her shoulders. Jace couldn't help but feel like she was blaming him for her daughter's kidnapping.

Jace was sure it was kidnapping. There was no way that Clary would just accept that she go with Sebastian, not unless he had threatened her with something. Jace had known instantly, that Clary didn't care whatever happened to her, that Sebastian must have used them against Clary, in order to convince her to leave with him. He was sure of it.

And what Sebastian could be doing to Clary right now, or had already done, spiked a nerve of helplessness in Jace's chest. When Clary left, he had screamed for her, yelling her name, he thought that he had left an echo in the air, but when Isabelle and Alec found him in the back, they both shook him, asking him what was wrong. That was when he realized that it wasn't an echo. It was him. Screaming Clary's name over and over again.

Jace felt a new wave of anxiety wash over him as he ran his hand through his hair for the tenth time, making his hair puff up. Isabelle, who sat at the ledge of her window, looked over at him and said, "Stop walking back and forth, you're making me dizzy just looking at you. I swear when you disappeared all Clary would do was sit on my bed while she stared at her knees, it was almost impossible to get a reaction from her. But all you're doing is walking around and making frustrated grunts and groans. Oh put your hand down, tearing your hair out isn't going to help either you know?"

Jace sat on Isabelle's bed, a plush mattress with a purple cover bedazzled with rhinestones and about a million pillows, in a heap and groaned some more. "I swear, what are they doing in there? Talking isn't going to do anything! We need action, hunting. By the Angel! " He covered his face with a sparkly pillow and moaned.

Isabelle hopped off her perch and in a few short strides, took the pillow off of him, and threw it back down on his face. Hard.

"OW!" Jace exclaimed. "My face! You damaged it, do you know how many women will gasp at the sight of what you've done" he rubbed his cheek, where the impression of a rhinestone now dominated.

"There, that's more like you. Self-centered and thinking the world revolves around you." Isabelle smirked, and kicked at his leg that dangled off of the bed with one high heeled foot. "Now get up, I'd thought you would have taken some initiative by now. This is so unlike you Jace Lightwood. To just mope around here instead of doing something. You know, even Clary made some effort in trying to find you." Isabelle taunted.

Jace knew that Isabelle was only trying to cheer (or Isabelle's way of cheering) up, but at the thought of Clary, hopefully searching for him while he was possessed by Sebastian, placed a heavy load on his already ton of guilt. Clary did everything she could to find him, now it was his turn.

"Alright," he said, now with a new determination that glowed in his eyes, before where hopelessness had lain.

The only reason Clary found him was because he showed himself to her, so how were they going to find her? These were thoughts that took over Jace's mind at night, these past two sleepless nights. But now there was no time to waste.

He waited by the door as Isabelle put on about twenty accessories, applied about ten pounds of heavy makeup, and put on a black leather jacket over her blue skin tight dress. If Jace were an ordinary guy, he'd think that all he saw was a hot babe, one that he could enjoy several awesome nights with. But he knew better, he was Izzy's adopted brother, and he knew that somehow, even with all that skin tight clothing, Izzy hid some serious weaponry behind all that. Her electrum whip was coiled around her left wrist, making it look like a stack of golden bracelets. Jace had fought against that whip once, and he didn't like the memory of how it sounded when it wacked across his skin.

Last time he ever played a joke on Isabelle.

As they walked down the halls of the Institute, only the sound of Izzy's stiletto heels echoing off the walls accompanied them. They walked to the doors of the library, Jace checking his watch. The meeting was supposed to end at noon. It was about forty minutes past that. _These people really know how to drag things along…_

Jace was tired of waiting. He took out his stele, getting a curios look from Izzy, and drew a rune on the back of his hand. When she saw it, Izzy placed her hand on his, as Jace pushed his hand onto the door. The rune was to help them hear what was going on inside.

At first, Jace couldn't make out anything, but then voices began to clear through as if he was right next to them. Several voices were arguing, none that Jace knew, but he quickly made sense of the argument.

"There's no doubt what Jonathan Christopher can do, now that he has his sister. We all know that Clarissa Morgenstern-" The person was cut off by a voice that sounded like Jocelyn.

"She is not Morgenstern, by law she is Fray!" The only reason Jocelyn was allowed there was because of Luke's place in the council, and the fact that her daughter was the captive in the situation. Other than that, the fact that she left the life of the Shadowhunters weighs heavily on her by everyone else.

A different voice spoke now, one with more authority. The counsel, probably. "Mrs. Morgenstern, or Ms. Fairchild, or whatever you prefer. Your daughter was born under your marriage with Valentine Morgenstern, so therefore the court will hold her as Morgenstern. We also have no care for human laws, for that is the only thing that can prove your daughter as Fray."

Jocelyn said nothing.

"As for what I was saying," said the first voice, "We all know that Clarissa has a special gift for creating runes, it is possible that Jonathon may want to use his sister's ability to his advantage."

More voices rang out, and Jace could only catch little snippets of what they were saying.

"We can't let that happen-"

"She must be stopped-"

"She could be harmed-"

A voice spoke louder amongst them though, causing everyone to stop and listen.

"I think we all are taking this the wrong way. We all agree with what Jace Lightwood said, Clarissa had willingly agreed to go with her brother. What if she left to become partners with him? Blood runs thicker than water, and her blood is the blood of Valentine. Perhaps she has felt called to join her brother in whatever hideous deeds he performs."

More gasps sounded from the room, and Jace could barely hear Jocelyn and Luke as they tried to tell everyone that Clary would never do that. That she isn't anything like her brother.

But their arguments were cut off by the same voice that had spoken before. "Perhaps Clarissa did not have those intentions when she had left, but who knows, maybe Jonathan has transformed his sister into one of his Demon Shadowhunters? Based off of accounts of those who have seen the, maybe now Clarissa will be seen with her brother's pitch black eyes."

More shouts and arguing. Jace could feel his nails biting into the wooden door, as well as Izzy's hand squeezing his, trying to comfort him.

"The meeting will end here!" The counsel shouted, "For now we have reached an agreement: the Morgenstern siblings must be found and captured. There is no telling what they are capable of doing. All Institutes will send their Shadowhunters to search places around their areas, any reports will come straight to me. If you find them, capture them, and if not possible, rid the world of them."

Jace couldn't move. If it weren't for Isabelle, who grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the door and back towards her room where they would wait for Alec, he would have been trampled by the Shadowhunters that rushed out of the Library. He felt numb, as his mind slowly processed everything that he had just heard.

When Alec walked in, and sat at the little chair that Izzy had in front of her vanity mirror, a blaze of thoughts going on in his dark blue eyes, his black hair a mess. Jace could hardly control his emotions. He was known for a calm expression, someone who could be annoyingly normal when things went crazy. But when he asked Alec, even he could hear the desperation coming from his voice, "So what happened, what are they going to do?" Even though he had just heard what was going on, he needed to know it was a lie. He had misheard.

Alec took a breath before starting. "First it was all strategy talk; they came up with a number of places that Sebastian could be in. They settled on the fact that he's probably in another one of those houses that you were in with him and Clary."

Jace nodded. He expected as much.

Alec continued, "Then they talked to all of the representatives of the Downworlders, Luke confirmed that he and everyone in his pack had nothing to do with Sebastian, Jordan had already said that nothing in the Praetor Lupis has been associated with him either. The Vampires also told everyone that haven't interacted with him in any way. It was the fairies that took the most time in asking because everyone made sure to ask the representative in every single way they could to make sure they weren't just twisting their words."

_Of course, those little weasels know how to slip through every loophole…._

"The everyone started talking about the reason why Clary went with Sebastian in the first place." Alec's eyes got an angry glint in them when he said Sebastian. Even though he appeared to well, even Alec would never forgive Sebastian for murdering his little brother.

Alec had stopped talking. "Then what?" Jace asked furiously. "What did they come up with?"

Alec slowly meet Jace's gaze, cautious with his words. "They think that Clary is in alliance with Sebastian, and they think it's best if they just," he swallowed, and sat up from his slouch, "if they just get rid of Clary and Sebastian."

Jace was still. His mind had gone blank, like the calm before a storm. Isabelle immediately walked to the door and opened it. She left the room, for what, who cares.

It wasn't a lie. It was real. They wanted to kill Clary, just because they think she's a menace to them. Jace walked over to one of Isabelle's walls, and punched his right fist straight through it.

"J-J-Jace!" Alec stood up and in two long strides grabbed his left arm before he could punch it into the wall too.

"DamnitDamnitDamnit!" Jace left his right arm where it was, and could feel the blood coursing down his knuckles where he split them. Alec drew a quick iratze on his wrist and made him sit down.

"Do you have to hurt yourself? Really Jace? Is this what you're going to do in times like this?!" Alec demanded as Jace stared at his shoes. Clary had bought them for him, but not before she drew on them. The front right toe had an angel with a sword in its right hand. The shoelaces had a rainbow pattern on them, below his ankle was a seven-tailed fox. "It's Naruto" she had said simply when he had asked. Under the shoe, Toy story style, she had drawn her name in bubble letters filled with color blends and patterns, the Y curling around her name. On the other shoe, she had done Jace's name, much in the same way. The left and right shoes were with different things, but his white shoes were bursting with color. Flames licked the tongue of his right shoe, and waved crashed on his left shoe's tongue. He had complained about them when she gave them to him in the infirmary, saying that someone badass like him couldn't kill demons with nyan cat drawn on his shoes, but he hadn't taken them off since. He was extra careful to make sure he never scuffed or ruined them, even though she said it was okay, that she'd made them with special colors and had even drawn a rune on them to make sure they would last.

They were precious to him, just like she was.

Couldn't Alec see that? No he couldn't , because Jace had trained himself to not easily show emotion like that.

When Isabelle walked back, she sighed at the hole in her wall. "Oh well, I was wondering what I could put there to make it look nicer anyway."

She tossed Jace and Alec a weapon's belt. "What's this for?" Alec asked.

"We're going out. Simon's waiting at Taki's and he wants to talk to us." She walked back to the door. "Well? Am I just supposed to stand here and look gorgeous? Let's. Go!"

Jace put on his weapons belt just as his parabatai did. Together they left the Institute without telling anyone. Jace internally wondered what Simon would want, and then felt guilty as he realized that he was probably as anxious as Jace was. Simon was Clary's childhood friend, and Jace was jealous of the fact of how close she and him were. Izzy had told him that she told Simon to accompany Clary while he was missing, and Jace felt both upset and grateful for that. If anyone knows Clary, it's Simon.

**Clary POV**

Chris was right. When Clary opened her black eyes, she felt much better. Her fever was gone, and it was easier to swallow. Her nose didn't feel as congested anymore, so she breathed deeply, savoring the fact that she didn't have to breathe through her mouth anymore. It was just uncomfortable.

Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn't anything since the night before, and this morning the prospect of food seemed unthinkable. Clary always thought it was weird that in a time where your body needs nutrition the most, it will reject the food given to it. She remembered when she was little and had the stomach flu, she wanted to eat her cereal that she ate every morning, but couldn't get more than two mouthfuls in before she felt so sick that she had to throw up everything that she had in her system before she felt better, but how was that supposed to help if then you don't have anything in your body to provide energy for you?

_Sigh, the thoughts of sick teenager in bed…_

She tried to sit up, when all of a sudden a painful throb went through her head, she was stuck in a strange position, her back almost levitating from lying down to full siting position, but if she moved at all, the pounding in her head came back.

Wincing at every time a throb went up, Clary slowly and carefully sat up, holding her left temple with her hand. _So much for being better….._ She stood up, and glanced at the clock that Chris had put this morning. It was past noon, no wonder she was hungry. She unplugged the humidifier and dragged her feet across the carpeted floor and down the hall and stairs to the kitchen. All the while trying to prevent her head from flaring up with pain.

She opened up all the cabinets, not having a clue as to what she should eat, so the magical cabinet gave her loads of choices. Though Clary felt better, and knew that while her body was hungry, it might also just spew back anything she put into it. There were some foods that just by looking at it, she knew that her stomach wouldn't approve. She poured a glass of milk, but couldn't get more than a few sips past. Pouring the milk back into the jug, she eyed the bread in a cabinet, and thought maybe some toast would settle in her stomach. Clary was going to add jam, but it seemed too much for her, so she munched on dry toast and drank plain water.

Not at all like yesterday's amazing breakfast.

Clary turned around, aiming for the couch, but she stubbed her toe on corner of the island that served as a countertop to cook in the kitchen. On the impact she had let go of the glass of water, and in her quick movements to catch it before it smashed to the ground, she head throbbed with such an enormous and sudden pound that Clary stopped and just let the glass break onto the floor. Little shards moved everywhere, and for a second, Clary could see everything move in slow motion. The glass upon touching the floor, seemed to look like it was going to sink into it like quicksand, but that was just the glass breaking into a million pieces, little cracks running along everywhere, until the glass seemed to explode, shards of it flying into all directions.

That was when time snapped back into focus, and Clary heard the sound of the glass breaking. She held her head with one hand, her bread forgotten on the island, she could feel her toe pulsing. She was only wearing socks, and there was glass everywhere, the thought of walking with glass embedded in the sock while she walked gave her nausea, so she stayed where she was, and slowly, pulled herself onto the island, leaving one foot dangling over the counter, while she cradled the other and carefully removed the sock.

Ouch. She hadn't just bumped her big toe, the nail was broken, and bleeding, and the tip of the toe was purple, she looked down at it, her white hair falling down around her so that it created a sort of curtain for her face. Clary was glad for that, because her long hair managed to surround her toe as well. When Clary heard footsteps coming from, from the wall?

No. They were coming from a part in the wall where the door to go into the training room was. Clary rummaged in the drawers that were in the sides of the island, looking for bandages. Sure enough even those worked the same way, and Clary peeled back the packaging and wrapped the bandage around her toe before Chris could come through the door that appeared out of nowhere in the wall. His face was screwed into a frown, his left hand held blade that Clary faintly remembered seeing hanging on one of the pillars supporting the roof of the turret that was their training room.

He looked at the ground first, then at her. The frown was gone, but he still looked armed and ready.

"No one broke in you know, I just dropped a glass." Clary said what she thought was the thing on his mind.

If it was, she couldn't tell. He simply thrust the sword into its strap that was slung over his back, and walked across the glass on combat boots to her.

"Why are you on the table?" He asked.

"Well there's glass everywhere, and I'm only wearing socks." She said no more, as she tucked her hair behind her ears. He shrugged as he walked to a closet door, and began to sweep up the glass. She stayed on the island, keeping unusually calm and quiet.

"What happened to your toe?" He asked, not looking at her ass he threw all the shards into the plastic trashbin.

"I hit it on the corner, that's why I dropped the glass." Clary made sure she didn't sound too calm, so she whined "And my head is pounding. I have this really bad throb and I don't know where it came from." She grabbed the bread that was on the counter and began munching on it, and finished it.

Chris chuckled, "Clary, Clary. I never took you for the clumsy type. Next time, maybe you shouldn't stab your toe into the corner."

Clary prickled and suddenly said. "Maybe I only did because I have your traits due to the rune."

Chris gave her look, and Clary internally smacked herself for saying that. But he only put his hand on her foot, his fingers which were always hot, sending warmth onto her foot. Taking a stele from his weapons belt, he drew an iratze on her heel, and she felt the ache that had started in her toe fade.

Chris's fingers went for the Band-Aid on her toe. "What are you doing?" She asked a little too quickly.

"Taking off your bandage," He said as he peeled the Band- Aid back, "I don't know how bad it was but the wound should be healed by now."

Clary held her breath. But a deep wave of relief hit her when Chris had taken the bandage off, and her toe was bag to normal. She tried to not show it too much.

Chris gave her a hand as she scooted to jump off the counter. Clary almost waved him off, but in retrospect, it did seem better if she accepted his help. Taking his hand, she hopped to the floor, and even though her toe was better, she still mindfully managed her weight so that none of the pressure was on it.

Chris looked at her up and down, then he walked over to one of the cabinets and said, "You're looking better, do you want to train first and then eat, or eat then train, I want to see the power that that rune has lent you."

He faced her again with a bag of bread and mineral water, something Clary knew she could eat without retching. She twisted her lips in thought. "At the same time, I can eat and throw a knife at the wall, just let me change first, these clothes smell like I've coughed in them."

"How is that supposed to smell? And if it does, how do you know how it smells like?" Chris teased her as she went up the stairs.

"I don't know, maybe it just does ,okay." Clary walked into the hallway, found her room, and closed the door carefully. She leaned against, and released the sigh of relief that she had been holding in.

Why had she been acting so funny around Chris? What was hiding? Why was she so weary about him seeing her cut? Clary walked over to the drawer under the vanity table and removed the clothes she was wearing. Standing in only her bra and panties, she pinched her knee, hard, stabbing it with her fingernail. Clary winced, self- caused pain hurt more than normal pain for some reason. But then she looked at her knee, the new wound that was there.

So she hadn't imagined it. It wasn't that Clary hadn't wanted Chris to see her wound, she didn't want him to see her blood. Clary walked to the bathroom, making sure none of the drops would hit the carpet, by the time she had a piece of toilet paper in her hand, a thick blob of her blood looked like it had coagulated, but it really was just a bubble. She wiped it off and was going to flush the paper down the toilet. Clary always saw her red blood whenever she had cuts, scrapes. Lots and lots of red.

But this blood, was black.

**Lacie: Dun-dun DUN!**

**Clary: Wait. What, how is that even possible! Why do I have black blood? **

**Lacie: There's actually a really simple reason to it but I just thought it would be fun for people to imagine why you now have black blood.**

**Clary: But why black blood? First you change my appearance and now my BLOOD**

**Lacie: I'm rewatching Soul Eater okay? I just love it Maka's reaction to the black blood when she's fighting Crona XD**

**Clary: At least you didn't make me insane. **

…

**Lacie: Oh right Chris isn't here, I expected him to say something like "you can't become what you already are" or something**

**Clary: Lacie watch it.**

**Lacie: Fine. So Lacie's adored readers, what did you think about this week's chapter? Sorry it wasn't as long as last week's, the chapter lengths depend on what I put in them.**

**Clary: Review, comment, favorite, follow, you now, do that stuff. It'll make her so happy. **


	5. Piñatas and Vampires

**Lacie: So… How's everyone doing?**

**Clary: Umm…. Fine?**

**Chris: That is such a stupid question**

**Lacie: Yeah…..I know it is, but like, in reality, nothing to do with this story, but like what you're actual plot is in TMI.**

**Clary: Oh, you know, visiting Jace. Checking out his glowing self, getting grounded for, like forever by my mom for running off on my own and putting my life in danger. The usual.**

**Lacie: Chris?**

**Chris: Did you not read City of Lost Souls? 'I am coming'**

**Lacie: Yes but what does that mean!?**

**Chris: I can't tell you that.**

**Clary: Will probably toss us another dead angel…**

**Lacie: Anyway, I don't really look at the Internet for any sneak peeks or stuff that Cassandra Clare may talk about, so if anyone wants to tell me anything they might know about the next book feel free to tell me!**

**Chris & Clary: Lacie-Abyss does not own the Mortal Instruments.**

**Lacie: I OWN WHITE HAIRED CLARY AND CHRIS!**

**Chris: You don't own me!**

**Lacie: I don't own Sebastian, but I do own Chris ;)**

**Enjoy!**

**Clary POV**

Clary couldn't see as Sebastian (they were training) tied the black scarf around her eyes tight.

"Can you see anything?" He asked.

Clary shook her head, and stood still waiting for Sebastian to tell her what the blind fold was all about. After ensuring that what she saw in the kitchen, that she did have black blood, Clary quickly cleaned the wound, covered it with a bandage, and dressed in lose lime green yoga pants and a white long T-Shirt. Before meeting Chris back downstairs, she took a couple of breaths, and calmed herself. She also drank a cup of coffee when she went back down, which stopped the pounding in her head from before. (Ugh, she was addicted to coffee) She didn't know why she didn't want to tell Chris about her black blood, she just didn't. Clary wondered if her black blood was because of Sebastian's demonic qualities, but then remembered that Sebastian had red blood, she remembered back in Alicante, the way his blood had burned at her arm. But it was red.

Shaking those thoughts out of her mind, Clary focused on training. When they had first gotten here, Sebastian had put her back where she left off, fifteen meters away from the target. The three daggers in her hand, she didn't even struggle to aim them in the center of the target. With her new strength and eyesight, thanks to the rune, she chucked all three knives in the center, the blades so close together that they competed for space.

With that he pulled her back another five meters, and on the fourth try, all three knives once again were very close together in the center of the target. It hadn't been exactly easy, twenty meters was a long distance, but it would have been much harder if she was regular old Clary, not white haired Clary.

Sebastian had nodded, as if he didn't actually want to see if she could do it, but as if he wanted to see the how much better the rune had actually affected her. He then pulled out a black scarf, sliced it in half, and tied it around her face. Clary waited, and was about to open her mouth and ask, "Now what?" when she felt like something was quickly coming towards her. She didn't know what instinct told her to move, but she ducked as a rush of disturbed air hit her face and her hand automatically reached for her cheek and demanded, "What was that?"

Sebastian's voice sounded, about five feet in front of her and two to the right. She turned towards the sound as he said, "I just wanted to see if you really were telling the truth about not being able to see, and to test how well your senses are, well, my senses considering that you're borrowing them from me."

"So to test that you _threw a knife at my face!"_ Clary shrieked as her hands reached up towards the blindfold.

"Don't remove it yet," Sebastian stated, "Yes, I threw a knife at you, because if you could actually see, you might have moved _before _it was anywhere near you. Besides, I wasn't aiming at your face, the knife would have gone past your shoulder if you hadn't moved. You see, Shadowhunters rely greatly on their senses, the five of them as well as instincts. But you have to learn to rely on your other senses, not just what you see. We're simply going to activate them so that you learn to use them when needed. Now, quick question, how did you know that I had thrown a knife? It could have been anything but you're sure it was a knife."

If Clary's eyes weren't squeezed shut by the blindfold, she would have blinked. How did she know? "I'm not sure, the way it came past me, the sound of the wind, like something was cutting through it. If it was something bigger, bulker, the wind would have sounded different, in the other case if it was something smaller, like a coin, it would have been harder to detect."

Clary was compelled to say, "Also that last thing you were holding was the knives from target practice so it's not like you could have thrown a spoon at me or something," but that would have ruined her answer.

She couldn't see Sebastian, but she could feel like he was smiling, something about the way he said, "Good, that's good." Her senses must have been pretty well tuned.

"Now," Sebastian said, she could hear his footsteps coming close to her, then she felt his hand on her back, the other one, gripping her right shoulder. His long fingers were lightly pressing the top of her breasts. She tried to ignore it, but since she couldn't see her other senses were working overtime, so she could feel his fingers on her through the shirt she wore, hear his breath in her ear, and smell his guy shampoo. He lead her towards what she assumed was the center of the training room.

Letting go of her, she heard him walk away to her left, probably to the turret that Clary remembered was right there. She could hear him as he took something lining the turret, and came back to her. She felt his hand grasp hers, his hand warm, and curled her fingers over something that was sort of heavy, yet hollow. She moved her hands over it, trying to determine what it was.

"A pole?" She asked. "No, a bamboo stick." She corrected herself. Her fingertips recognized the smooth surface of it.

"You're right, it's a bamboo stick, and it's going to be part of your training for today." Sebastian said, "Since you're going to learn to rely on your other senses, I'm going to try to attack you with another bamboo stick, and you will have to try to defend yourself with yours."

Clary processed this information. "Wait, what!" She said.

"Let's begin." All of a sudden a Clary felt movement going for her legs, she fumbled with her bamboo stick, but couldn't move in time. A large pain bloomed in her calf as Sebastian whacked her.

"You'll have to be quick, Clary," Another whack hit her on the shoulder, this time Clary didn't even feel it coming. She winced as she felt her shoulder throb, but refused to let go of her bamboo stick to press at the pain. This time, she thought she heard wind coming towards her forearm. Quickly, Clary moved her stick to deflect the attack, but Sebastian must have changed direction because that whack hit her other forearm this time.

"Stop!" Clary screamed, dropping her bamboo stick to the ground, Sebastian must have stopped too because she couldn't feel anymore whacks. "You can't just say 'Ready? GO!' because I'm not ready!"

"Clary, demons aren't going to wait for you to get ready, they'll just attack." Sebastian said with a sound of annoyance in his voice, but Clary could also hear the tone of satisfaction coming from him. He was _enjoying_ this.

"Give me a minute!" She responded, "This isn't practicing my senses, you're playing Piñata, except this time, the Piñata has its own stick!"

"Fine then, I'll give you a minute to get your bearings." Sebastian said.

Clary took a deep breath, and tried to slow her heart rate. She knew that she wouldn't be able to stop Sebastian from every attack, but she had to get an idea of how she could sense him coming. She leaned back on her heels, and listened to the way the floor slightly creaked when there was weight on it, when someone moved on it. She took a step forward, and one step back, noticing how it sounded. She took another deep breath, not to calm herself, but to see if she could still smell Sebastian's shampoo. He was right in front of her, so she could smell it a little, but not too much. Her nose was never that strong, but now it was much more delicate to the air around her. She moved the bamboo stick around, testing the best ways to move it around, quickly learning how to switch it from hand to hand, and estimating that it was about four feet in length.

She was aware of Sebastian being in front of her, probably watching her every move, and that more than a minute had passed, but she was getting into her instincts, and that took some time. Soon it would be faster, automatic, like flipping a switch.

Taking one last deep breath, she stood where she was, not even bothering to try to find where Sebastian was standing, for she had moved away a bit. She stood with both hands on her bamboo stick, holding it parallel to the ground.

"Ready." She said.

She didn't feel that her body had moved until she left the disturbed wind across her collar bone. In a blurred second she realized that Sebastian had, as fast as sound, swung his bamboo stick and had aimed for her injured shoulder, but she had sidestepped just before his stick made contact. She was about to feel a burst of pride, when she heard the floor squeak as Sebastian's rubber soled shoes moved behind her, Clary turned around, just about to raise her stick when she felt the impact of his bamboo hit her side. It took massive amounts of will power to not cower and hold her side in pain when she felt Sebastian coming at her again on her right. She didn't know where he was aiming at, so instead of bringing up her bamboo again, she ducked and rolled, ignoring the pain in her shoulder and side. Standing on her feet again, she quickly regained her bearings as she heard a croak of wood, the floor. Without even realizing, Clary raised her bamboo stick with one hand on either side of it, and heard the hollow sound of bamboo against bamboo.

Before Sebastian could attack again, Clary released her stick, and guessing where Sebastian was, she pounced on him, wrapping her arms around his waist, knocking both of them to the ground. She heard him grunt as they fell on the wooden floor, and two sounds as their bamboo poles fell to the ground.

Clary could feel Sebastian's chest falling and rising rapidly, unevenly, so she removed her blindfold to see what was wrong.

He was trying not to laugh.

But when he saw Clary looking at him, he burst out, leaning his head back as he did.

"What's so funny?" She asked him. Was it because Clary was a lot weaker than he had expected her to be, or was it because she chickened out and decided to throw herself at him. Either way, she was mad because this didn't seem like such a humorous moment for her.

"Stop it!" She banged her fists on his chest, but that only made him laugh even more. Clary stared at him, her black eyes watching as he tried to regain his breath, but as he lifted his head up to look at her, he barked out another burst of laughter. After a while, she couldn't help but join in. They laughed for a few more moments, until they both stopped. They stayed that way for a while, until Sebastian looked at her and said, "So, how long are you planning on lying down on me like that?"

Clary looked down and realized that she was still on him, her white hair going around her like a curtain, her chin meeting with his breastbone. Their legs were intertwined and her elbows were on either side of her, her palms resting in his chest. She could feel her cheeks burn bright, and ducked her head. She attempted to roll off of him, but she felt his arm wrap around her waist, holding her secure. She looked at him, accusingly, but questioning.

"I never said you had to get off." His eyes were bright, after his round of laughter, and Clary felt herself relax into him again, against her will. She was very conscious of the fact that they were both wearing very thin shirts, hers white and his blue, so she could feel his muscles. She tried to ease up the moment by saying, "You could have killed me back there."

He chuckled, "I would have not."

"Yes you would," She put a lock of hair behind her ears. She liked this hair; it didn't get tangled even after fighting. "That last attack could have bashed my brains in if I hadn't stopped it."

"I would have moved it to the side at the last second, I was just trying to see of you'd notice it." He smiled devilishly, "Is that why you threw yourself at me? So that I wouldn't attack you again? And here I thought that you were taking back what you said about me just being a brother."

Clary felt her cheeks burn up again. Sebastian might be saying that in a jokingly way, but Clary didn't feel like it was a joke.

She looked him in the eye, and as quietly as she could, she said, "I wasn't joking about that you know. I really do want you to be a brother." She looked down, and then back up again, her voice louder "I know that you said that you don't care if we're siblings, but I do."

Sebastian had stood up so fast, that Clary barely managed to sit up before he knocked her down. She shouldn't have said that, they were going so well. Why had she stirred things up? Jace was right, sometimes she just had to stay quiet.

But that's why she did that, for Jace. She might not think about him too much, but that was for her sake, so that she wouldn't miss him so much. But deep down, everything she did was to protect him and the others. She had to tell Sebastian how she really felt before things went out of hand.

Kneeling on the ground, she watched as Sebastian looked at her with a new emotion in his eyes. No, emotions. She could see anger, confusion, sadness, loneliness, and despair. Silently, his eyes asked her a question. _Could you ever love me? _

Not as a brother. As him. Like she did Jace.

Clary could see that he was struggling with this, with her wish for him to be her brother, and his wish to have her love him.

His eyes showed everything while his face showed nothing.

Clary didn't want to see it anymore. She couldn't stand to see his eyes like that. Slowly, as if she didn't want to startle him with sudden movement, she reached for the blindfold that she left on the ground. She stood up with it, walking carefully towards Sebastian. His gaze followed her, but he didn't move. She walked behind him, and on her tip-toes, she tied the blind fold around his eyes. Clary gathered the bamboo sticks, and going back to Sebastian, she placed her hand on his spine and led him back to the center of the training room. She placed one of the bamboo sticks in his hand, and taking a few steps back, she said, "Your turn to be the Piñata."

Placing her stick firmly in her hand, she said, "Ready?"

He nodded.

Clary nodded as well, even though he was blindfolded, she sensed that he knew.

"Go."

**Simon POV**

"Waitress! Another cup please!" Simon gestured towards the blue eyed waitress that served at Taki's.

Kaelie came out from behind the counter, and took the empty cup that rested at the booth that he was sitting in. "Another round?" she asked. Simon nodded. Kaelie sighed, "This is gonna cost you."

"Don't worry, I'll pay you every cent." Kaelie soon returned to him with a large white Styrofoam cup. His _fifth_ white Styrofoam cup. As Kaelie walked away, Simon removed the lid that hid the liquid inside. When he did, he took in a deep breath, ravishing in the smell. Blood. It still disgusted him that his body could enjoy the taste of it, he could remember when blood tasted metallic to him, the time when he bit his tongue so hard that his whole mouth was a fountain of dark red. He had shuddered at it, and still today, as he lifted his cup for a sip, expected for the drink to be disgusting, to feel impossible to taste. But it was sweet, and sure enough, the sip that Simon had planned to take, had turned into a gulp.

He restricted himself from chugging the whole thing down. The blood was good, but it wasn't fresh. Better than having to steal from hospital donations and drink the blood from meat bought from the grocery market. Usually he could contain himself from drinking so much blood, but to him blood was like water to a dying man of thirst. No matter how much he drank, he just couldn't get enough.

It was partially due to these past, what, almost three days? Tonight would be the third evening of Clary's kidnapping, and ever since Isabelle had told him what had happened at the Institute, Simon was running his own search party. On the day Clary disappeared, he searched all over the city, using his supernatural vampire speed and sight to check every place that he and Clary had ever been to, and every place that she had ever mentioned. He spent hours, from day and through the whole night, looking everywhere, turning over every rock. At dawn the next morning he only stopped to take a break. He tried to sleep on a park bench, more from old mundane habits than the actual need of sleep, but only managed to get about two hours of sleep before he was up and looking again. He walked around the whole perimeter of the city, and came up with nothing.

That's why he had told Isabelle to meet him at Taki's, they needed a plan. He couldn't stand to just wait for something to happen. This was Clary, his best friend of all time. Clary was always there for him, and he was always there for her. He had always thought of her as something fragile, a fine piece of China that had to be taken care of, but in the past few months, that thought had begun to change. Before his very eyes, he could see Clary changing. She became more aware of everything, and he blamed this on Jace. Clary had started wearing things to make her more appealing, though she still wore her baggy clothes, now and then she would wear something that made her stand out.

She was losing that glimmer, that innocent look in her eye that Simon had loved about her ever since they were kids. That made him love her. But now he could see that look in her eyes hardening, the innocent look becoming a flame of determination. He could see Jocelyn in her.

They had to find her, he couldn't lose his best friend. No, they were more than best friends. Not many best friends have gone through what they had gone through. Simon could swear, that since the day they had met, Clary and Simon's souls had been tied to each other.

Simon's thoughts were scattered when he heard the familiar chime of the bell ringing, signaling that someone had entered the door. He scooted over to the farthest side of his booth as Alec, Jace and Izzy entered his vision.

"Hey Simon!" Isabelle immediately shoved herself next to him, shoving herself so that their legs touched, even though there was plenty of room in their side of the booth. Jace and Alec seated themselves across them on the other side, Jace saying nothing while Alec gave him that thing that guys do when they nod their heads at each other. The three of them took menus that Kaelie had given them, and silently decided what they were to order. Simon could feel Izzy's right hand tracing circles on his jeans.

When he had first met Izzy, he had known that she was a glamorous, beautiful, one of a kind girl. The kind that a guy would kill for, the kind that even he would kill for. But at that time, he had only followed her around to try and get Clary's attention, to see if he could make her jealous, because no matter how much Simon was in love with her, she just couldn't see it. He had long ago abandoned that dream, Clary and him were better off as friends. Now though, Isabelle seemed more interested in him, not like before, where he was just a pet to pass the time with. He still wasn't sure if she wanted him for him, or she liked the idea of him, the fact that he was a vampire, a dangerous, blood sucker that could kill her if he wanted to.

Of course, she could kill him if she wanted to, too.

Simon was very conscious of Isabelle's long leg twining itself with his. He could smell her, her perfume, her cherry red lip gloss, her blood…..

_STOP THAT_

He was on his fifth cup of blood, he didn't need any more blood. At least that was what he tried to convince himself.

Kaelie came back soon enough, and they all placed their orders. Except for Jace.

"C'mon Jace, you have to eat something," Alec tried to urge him to eat. Jace looked awful, Simon could see the shadows under his eyes, and his cheek bones were much more prominent than they were before. He looked at Jace's eyes, which had bags under them. Some people would say that they saw emptiness in them, a deep grief hidden beneath those golden irises. Simon always though it was weird when people said things like that. He couldn't see it, so it just looked like eyes to him. But even he could tell that this whole thing was hitting Jace harder than Simon. He had just gotten back with Clary, freed from Sebastian, now they were apart again.

Simon couldn't help but pity the guy, the whole universe seemed to be against him.

He took a quick glance at the menu. "He'll have a Fettuccine Alfredo with parmesan and some Barbeque Chicken wings," Simon ordered for him.

Jace lifted an eyebrow at him as Kaelie wrote that down and went back behind the counter to get their meals. "Why did you order for me?" Jace said, "I didn't want anything."

Simon carefully covered his cup with the lid and sipped through the straw instead, his eyes watching as the blood came up through the plastic and into his mouth. "Your mind might say you're not hungry, but you're body tells otherwise." Simon wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

"So you were checking me out. I thought I caught you staring at me," Jace smirked at him, but it didn't look like it usually did. "I thought I told you, I like you and all, but I'd rather be friends."

Simon rolled his eyes. "Jace, even I can tell that you haven't slept recently, not to mention you haven't eaten. I know that you're pretty bummed out with this whole thing, but Clary would kill you if she saw that you weren't taking care of yourself."

Jace looked at Simon with a lion like gaze. "Take care of myself? How can I take care of myself if I don't know where Clary is! She could be anywhere, and that bastard Sebastian could be hurting her! How can I even worry about myself when Clary could be ten times worse! You probably didn't even think about that you blood sucking monster! You're best friend is gone and all you're doing is sitting here DRINKING BLOOD!"

Jace ended those last words by slamming his fist on the table, getting some suspicious glances at them from other people in the diner. Simon willed himself to not yell back at Jace. He wasn't mad at Simon, he was mad at everything, mad that he couldn't do anything to find the love of his life. He wanted to break something, lash out at something, and Simon was the first thing he saw.

Simon tried to tell himself this. He was about to take a deep breath to calm himself, before remembering that he didn't have to breathe anymore, and if he did Jace would only use it against him, so he didn't. Instead he met Jace's gaze, and tried to match the ferociousness he saw in them.

"First of all, _calm the fuck down._ I know you're mad, but it's not me you're mad at. Second, how can you even say that. You know what Clary is to me, she's practically my sister, maybe more than that, and the only reason why I'm here, is because for the past three days, I have been searching the _entire _city for her. I haven't stopped, and have barely rested since you guys told me she was gone. The only reason I am here, is because I know Clary well enough to know that she wouldn't like it if I exhausted myself to the point where I'm half dead. Well, one and a half dead really. Clary cares about us, and she would hate it if we beat ourselves up about it while she's counting on us. So yes, I'm taking a quick rest, and refreshing myself the only way I can."

He stared at Jace, watching as his features softened, and he dropped his gaze. Jace stayed quiet. Isabelle took the opportunity to say, "So how did it go, you're searches I mean."

Simon shook his head, "I looked everywhere, high and low. Nothing, so we might as well go outside the city."

Alec folded his arms on the table and leaned back in the booth. "We've already determined that Sebastian most likely took her to another one of those houses, so they're probably popping up all over the world. It's kind of obvious that they weren't here."

Catching Simon's look, Alec added, "It was still good that you checked everything out anyway, though."

"Simon, there's another thing too." Isabelle was looking down at her nails, which were painted a dark blue color. "The council has ordered that Sebastian might be using Clary to his advantage, use her powers with runes and stuff against us."

"I wouldn't be surprised if he did." Simon really meant it. It was something he had already considered.

"Yes, but, due to this, they have ruled that, that Clary….." Izzy looked at Alec for help.

He sighed. "They said that Clary was possibly too much a threat to us. As soon as anyone sees them, they are to capture both Clary and Sebastian, and if not possible, kill them."

Simon could feel all three of their looks as he stared off into the distance, his mind blank. They wanted to kill Clary. Kill his best friend. Because she was too much of a 'threat.' How could they think that a small, short, skinny red head, could ever do anything to them?

They had lived such a normal life, everything was in harmony, but everything changed when the Shadowhunters appeared. (Writer's POV: haha Avatar reference)

_Calm down. _He wouldn't let this get to him, he had read too many comic books and watched too much anime to not remember that panic would get him nowhere. A calm mind can find an answer to anything.

So when he looked back up, his expression was smooth. His voice was even when he said, "Well then, I guess we'll just have to find them before they do."

Izzy stared at him, "Okay," she said dragging out the ay, like she had expected some more reaction from him. They all probably did. "Have you tried talking to her through the faerie ring you two have?" She asked hopefully.

Simon sighed this time, "No, Clary destroyed her ring back when she was with Jace and Sebastian."

Isabelle only said "Oh."

They sat in silence, as if the realization of how useless they were finally sank in. Kaelie had come back and dropped of all of their orders, giving Jace an ugly look that he either ignored or didn't notice.

As they ate, Simon sipping his drink while Jace only poked around with his fork, Simon remembered coming here again, about over a week ago. Clary had texted him to meet her at Taki's, so he obliged. He wasn't doing anything anyways. They had sat in this very booth, Clary eating her food while Simon was sipping his mug o'blood.

Faintly, he could remember their conversation.

"_So what were you doing? Did I bother you or something?" Clary has asked as she calmly, a bit too calmly, like she was trying not to seem bothered by something, sipped her drink._

_Simon ignored it. Probably relationship stuff, and he did not want Clary to launch into that. "Nothing really, Jordan's never home, he went out with Maia, so I was bored watching Tv. You saved me from boredom, thank you sensei." He playfully bowed to her._

"_What about you? What have you been up to?" Simon asked her._

_This was where Clary seemed to force her air of 'Everything is fine.' Her words were too forced, her content expression looked plastered, like a doll. "Oh, you know. Visiting Jace, hanging out with Izzy, how are you two by the way, don't think I don't catch the way you two look at each other." She had changed the subject._

_Simon ignored her question. "What did you do before you called me here, I'm thankful, but even for you, this is a little sudden."_

_He knew well that Clary sometime called him to be with her when she needed somebody to calm her, even when he didn't know she needed calming. His presence made her feel secure, so what happened that she needed him now?_

_Clary took her time in chewing and swallowing her food before responding. "Oh, I was just walking around, looking at the stores, relaxing and enjoying my city you know?"_

_Oh something was definitely up. Simon wanted to confront her, ask her, but he knew that Clary would only deny everything. So he had answered her question about Isabelle, getting Clary interested, and seeming to relax her a bit. Her smiles no longer seemed forced, and her laugh seemed more natural. He had let it out of his mind, and didn't ask her about. _

Looking back at that, Simon regretted not confronting her in the first place. Because they had met up several more times before her disappearance, and in those times she had acted in much the same way.

He had to bring this up. "Guys, has Clary been a bit, weird around you guys lately?"

Isabelle stopped drinking her soda, "What do you mean?"

"You know, like, has she been a little too cheery, like she was acting that everything was fine. Fake laughing, forced smiles, stuff like that?" Simon tried to explain.

Strangely, Alec was the first to respond. "Actually, I remember seeing her about five days ago in the Institute. She was leaning against a wall, she looked deep in thought. When I passed her and said 'hey,' she looked up in surprise. I asked her if something was wrong, and she, kind of looked like she thought I knew something. She immediately said that nothing was wrong, that everything was okay. I just thought she had a fight with her mom or Jace or something."

"Jace?" Simon questioned.

Jace's gaze was still on his untouched plate. "I remember, that when Clary showed up while I was fighting Sebastian, she said '_I accept your offer_.'"

Isabelle suddenly sat up straight, her leg no longer intertwined with Simon's. "Simon, when did you start noticing Clary acting strange?"

Simon did some mental math. "About, a week before she was taken. Why would-" Realization hit Simon. "Oh."

Isabelle nodded, Alec looked up in confusion, but then his eyes widened in understanding. Jace could only nod.

"Clary had talked with Sebastian, about an offer, and he gave her time to think about it. Clary agreed to go with him, she wasn't taken by force, it was her choice." Simon said silently, like saying it out loud would make it have more sense.

"I wonder what he threatened her with to make her want to go." Alec wondered aloud.

"Us," Jace said, "What else would Clary risk herself for?"

They all sat in silence again. Finally, Simon had enough. He stood up, getting looks from the three of them again. "I'm gonna pay Kaelie. You," he said pointing at Jace, "are going to eat some of that because if Clary risked herself for us, then we might as well take care of ourselves and not let her sacrifice be in vain." _Sheesh I sound like an old man from an anime I used to watch…._

Jace argued with him, "I'm not hungry."

Simon looked at him, and unconsciously, his fangs slipped out. He was really pissed. "Eat your food, before I make you my food. And trust me, don't think I won't."

Simon scooted out of the booth, took two steps away, before looking over his shoulder and saying, "By the way, Clary loves to eat that that pasta and those chicken wings, it's what she ordered the whole time during the times we were here last week."

Jace's eyes widened, and looked over at the food with new fascination. From where Simon gave Kaelie a couple of bills to pay for all the blood he bought, he watched as Jace tentatively tasted a forkful of pasta. Soon enough he was eating it like his life depended on it.

Clary was right. Sometimes Jace just needed a push, a threat, and something to remind him of why he does what he does.

**Clary POV**

It wasn't as easy as Clary thought to keep quiet around Sebastian.

It had been around three hours since she tied the blindfold around him, not that she really felt time pass, but with Sebastian's knowledge in her mind, she could read the time just by glancing at the sky in the high windows of the turret. It was about five in the afternoon, and Clary was starting to feel the effects of not having a proper meal since her subway yesterday.

"Quiet your breathing," Sebastian told her for the millionth time. He was standing around the middle of the turret, and even though his eyes were blindfolded, it felt like he was staring right at her. Besides, she thought that she was quieting it. Even with Sebastian's qualities in her, if she didn't know how to use them, they were no good. She had his speed, which she used while they were locked in a bamboo fight, but her mind wasn't used to the speed, so it didn't react to things like it should.

It was like forwarding a movie as fast as it could go and then trying to stop it at an exact moment.

Pretty difficult.

"I can practically hear you thinking," Sebastian said, seeming to turn in the general direction of where she was. This wasn't working, he was a little bit too in touch with himself. Clary had managed to whack him a few times, and that was fun, she had to admit. But if you stripped her down, her body was an artwork of bruises ranging from green to dark purple. When she was the one who was blindfolded, Sebastian would aim for her arms and legs mainly, but now he went for wherever the stick would land.

Clary decided to hold her breath, and tried to make herself weigh as little as possible, just like Jace had taught her. She emptied her head, slightly paranoid and only half believed that Sebastian really could read her mind. She tried to erase her presence, make it so that she wasn't here at all. It looked like it was working, calmly, she side stepped around him, seeing that he wasn't turning with her like he was just before. She was about five meters away from him, her hands holding the bamboo stick lightly, fearing that even tightening her grip would give her away.

She had to get closer, still side stepping, she closed in on him, walking around but getting close to the center like a swirl. Still emptying her mind, she slowly raised her arms, and when she was about two feet away from Sebastian, she stayed perfectly still. Her hands were raised, the bamboo stick positioned so that she could swing it like a baseball bat on her right side. Clary hadn't realized that she was still holding her breath, and didn't think she could hold it much longer.

_I have to do it now…._

As quick as her faster muscles would allow, Clary brought down the stick in a blur or movement. She was so sure that it would whack Sebastian right on the shoulder, but suddenly another blur of arms and sticks came into focus, and in less than a millisecond, he had moved his arm back, slightly twisting himself to block the blow.

"That was close," Sebastian was grinning like a madman, "I almost didn't catch that."

Before he focused again, Clary twisted her arm so that it slid off of Sebastian's stick, pressing it down, and aimed for his hip. He deflected it again, stepping back and then thrusting forward, landing a blow onto Clary's aching wrist.

This wasn't working! The last time she managed to catch him off guard was when she did something he didn't suspect. That was when she threw the stick away and used herself as a weapon when she tackled him.

Getting an idea to end this, Clary readjusted her grip, and surged forward. Sebastian blocked her attack, holding his stick in place like two locked swords. Clary then pretended to slide her bamboo down, like she was aiming for his calf, even stepping her foot back to get a better aim. Sebastian sensed this, so when he moved part of the stick down, so that it was diagonal across his chest, and took a step back, Clary lifted her other foot, and linked it on his ankle, tripping him in the process. He was going to regain his balance, but she grabbed her bamboo diagonally too, pressing it against his so that the sticks made an X. She used his weight and the strength she had from him against him, and knocked him to the ground.

"Yes! I finally win one!" Clary half screamed half moaned to the ceiling while she dropped to her butt, her legs spreading out so that her hands were on the floor between them.

"You got lucky," Sebastian simply stated, removing the blind fold from around his eyes. "That was good, if we keep that up, maybe you'll be able to touch me with that stick of yours." He smirked at her.

"Hey, I managed to get a couple of hits in." Clary argued with him, but wasn't really into the discussion.

"Those little pokes? I barely felt them." He grinned and moved his hair away from his eyes where the blindfold had pressed into them. Was that sweat?

"Oh yeah?" Clary asked, raising an eyebrow, matching his previous smirk, "then what are those bruises I see?"

Clary pointed at two purple circles that were on his right forearm, some of the few blows she had managed to make this whole time.

"Okay fine, maybe I did feel them. But only a little bit." Sebastian, now Chris because they were done for today, said.

"Good, because I would be disappointed if you didn't. You don't make a very good piñata, because you're not supposed to fight back." Clary said absentmindedly while she pulled her hair out of the ponytail she had placed it in. The white hair spread out around her, not even frizzy or anything. Though she missed her red hair, she couldn't help but admire the fact that this hair was so much easier to care for, and after hours of training, it still looked perfect. She finally understood how Isabelle felt.

Chris had been staring at her as she did so, plucking a white strand of hair that had gotten tangled in the hair tie. She ignored his stare, and placed her hand on her stomach as she felt it grumble.

"I'm hungry." She said plainly. "Let's go down and eat, maybe we can watch some cooking shows cause when it comes to making food, breakfast is my limit."

Chris snorted, "I think we've all seen what you do with breakfast," he stopped saying anything else about her cooking when he caught Clary's vicious look, "Okay, fine, you're cooking was actually good. No more jokes about your cooking."

Clary hmphed.

"But still, neither of us know how to cook, and I don't think watching a cooking show will improve our skills anyway." Chris said this while standing up from where he was sitting. He picked up both fallen sticks and propped them up against the nearest pillar.

"So then what do you suggest, because you seem to have an idea, seeing that you're shooting down the only thing I got." Clary said this teasingly, while braiding her over her right shoulder. "Do we order out or something? Like pizza? Can we even do that, considering that our house in on a Lake?"

Chris shook his head, "We're not in Chicago anymore Clary."

Clary glanced up at him from where she was almost done with her braid. "What? Oh right, moving house. Where are we then?"

He shrugged and leaned against the pillar next to the bamboo sticks, "I'm not sure, somewhere in Saudi Arabia."

If she had been drinking something, Clary was sure she would have spit it out, "Arabia!? As in, Aladdin and Jasmine Arabia? How the heck do we go from Chicago to Arabia?"

"_Saudi_ Arabia, and I'm not sure how, the house moves as it pleases." Chris looked at her, "What do you mean by Jasmine Arabia?"

"Can't you influence the house on where to go?" Clary ignored his question. Of course her brother had never watched a single Disney movie.

Chris frowned, obviously noticing that she hadn't answered her, but still said, "No, I can't just tell the house where to go, I don't ever know where it's going, if that makes you better about being here."

It did, she had always thought that Chris chose all of the places they stopped at, but it appears that it was a mystery to him as well. "Okay then, back to our first topic. I'm hungry." Chris chuckled, and stood up, walking towards her. He put out a hand, ready to help her up. Clary quickly considered taking it or not. Not taking it would just seem rude, she didn't have a reason not to, so she did.

Still holding her hand in a firm grip, Chris gave her a smirk, but it was quickly replaced by a smile. He held out an stele, and carefully started drawing iratzes on her. Clary could feel her many bruises ease until they were no longer painful. "Then let's go out to eat."

**Chris: Let's go out to eat? That's how you ended this chapter?**

**Clary: I expected something better. Compared to the last one…**

**Lacie: I'm sorry! I planned to have this chapter have an Arabian night and stuff, but it seems like I'm putting too much into this one, and I' m trying to have each chapter revolve specifically around one main concept. **

**Chris: and this chapter's concept would be…..**

**Lacie: Ummmm**

**Chris: Thought so.**

**Clary: Just start the next chapter soon.**

**Lacie: I will :D I already have what's going to happen all planned out. So I'll start it as soon as I post this one. **

**Clary: Will it be out sooner than usual?**

**Lacie: To be determined….. But how did you like that I put a Simon POV in? I tried to catch his personality as best as I could.**

**Chris: I don't know him, so I don't care.**

**Clary: It was alright.**

**Simon: I thought it was perfect.**

**Lacie: O_O**

**Chris: O.o**

**Clary: SIMON? O:**

**Simon: Ummm….. Review?**


	6. Saudi Arabia part 1

**Clary: Simon, leave.**

**Simon: but I-**

**Chris: GET OUT**

**Simon: But I wanna be here too!**

**Lacie: NO! *summons amazing authoress power or something like that and pushes Simon back to her story***

**Lacie: That was close. Guys, thanks so much for the beautifantamazingly wonderlovely reviews! And to all my silent readers who I don't know, let me say that you make my view number increase **

**Chris: Wow *sarcastic* that was, something.**

**Clary: Tell them how many views you've had!**

**Lacie: Guys, when I updated chapter 5 I had roughly a thousand views, and when I check about five hours later, I see I have over 1,500 views! I swear I'm so excited the first thing I do every day is turn on my computer and wonder what I'm going to write for you guys. **

**Chris: *cough* no life *coughcough***

***summons authoress powers and gets Chris sent away too***

**Clary: Bye Chris! *Waves at him* Lacie-Abyss doesn't own the Mortal Instruments, but she does own the power to send us away apparently.**

**Lacie: On with the story! By the way guys I know nothing about Saudi Arabia so forgive me if I make anything up or something. **

**Enjoy! **

**Clary POV**

It was hot in Arabia. Chris had warned her to wear something light, but to bring something so that she wouldn't get sunburned, or a dust storm picked up. Clary was wearing Capri jeans, which she could roll down later on so that they were pants. She had a thin, white pirate looking shirt, which she thought was pretty. It was loose yet covering and billowy. The sleeves were puffy, and cinched at her elbows, then belled out. She had a black vest like looking corset over it, which had to be laced in the front. For shoes, she was wearing black converse. She thought wearing a pirate shirt with modern shoes would be weird, but after trying it on, it actually looked nice. She had brought a backpack that held a long jacket, a sketchpad and some pencils (she remembered this time) and some sunscreen, under which she hid the stele and seraph blade that Chris had lent her. He had also given her some of the currency that was used here, which she tucked into her jean pockets.

Chris had changed into a grey shirt with lettering that said 'Cool story bro.' He had on plain jeans and black sneakers. When Chris had opened the front door, the first thing to hit Clary was the bareness. It looked empty, compared to the sight of the Chicago Skyline, the lights illuminating the sky, the lake reflecting the colors, the sight of sand, sand, and more sand, kind of dropped the expectations she didn't know she had. It was around six o'clock when they left the house, so the sun was again setting here. She had to admit though, even the bare desert had its beauty, and as she and Chris walked the quarter mile to the nearest town (she didn't know how Chris knew where to go) she couldn't help but hum to herself songs that she could remember from the Aladdin movies. 'Arabian Nights' was the first one, she didn't know the lyrics, so she just mumbled.

When they reached the town, Clary looked in awe at the houses, some looked just like what she'd imagine they'd look like, made from mud and bricks. It was like she was pushed into a real version of Aladdin. Chris had told her that this town, or village or whatever, was poorer than most, but still fairly prosperous.

They walked around, trying not to get so much attention from the locals, but failed miserably. In Chicago, they could easily blend in, but here, it was obvious they didn't belong. Most of the women there wore their traditional shawls and clothing, but Clary wasn't and the fact that she and Chris had white hair, hers slightly whiter than his, drew the eye.

They walked down the center of the dusty street, and as they stepped aside to let a beat-up looking jeep pass by, Chris leaned in and asked her under the rumble of the jeep's engine, "What were you humming?"

Clary looked at him. She didn't think he'd be listening, but then again, she assumed it was stupid to think that Chris wouldn't keep an eye on her at all times. "Just some song," she muttered to him quickly before the jeep's engine rumble was gone.

They passed by a market place, where vendors were selling clothes, shawls, perfumes, fruits, spices, rugs, trinkets, jewelry, and even voodoo looking sort of things. Clary eyed the severed head of a monkey that was hanging by a rope under a tent that sold weird looking stuff. The monkey's eyes had been pulled out and replaced with red jewels. She caught a look from the old lady that was in charge of that tent, and tried not to look surprised when she saw the women only had one eye. She held many bracelets on her arms, some made with jewels bound together with colorful strings, as well as queer looking dolls with stitched mouths and button eyes. There were other things on the shelves and cardboard boxes draped with quilts, such as large rings and head jewelry. While that seemed normal though, there was also what looked like human thumbs in a jar, next to strange concoctions of different colors, rust red, emerald green, marine blue, and copper. What was alarming about these concoctions were that they all held something that had once been living floating inside the jars they were held in, such as an eyeball, or a pig's foot, and even a whole human hand.

While she was inspecting this, she felt a hand wrap around her upper arm. She turned to see Chris there, pulling her back. "What's wrong?" She asked.

"You were walking closer to that stand." He warned.

Clary looked back at the one eyed lady. He was right, from when she was watching the stand from a distance, now they were close enough to toss a stone into one of that open hourglass shaped jars. "So what? It's just a lady selling some weird voodoo, not like any of her stuff even work." She remarked.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you that some humans have actually learned to use magic, of course they don't know how to use it, so it ends up being black magic. This comes from them trying to use things that weren't meant for them, however, sometimes they know exactly what they're doing." He eyed the lady cautiously. She gave him a menacing, lopsided grin.

"Well can't I just check it out, I won't buy anything." She promised him while tugging her arm away from his grip.

"With these type of people, it doesn't matter whether you buy something or not, they'll find a way to mess with you, maybe make a doll out of you, steal memories from you, or take your ability to reason. Maybe even worse, you'll walk in just to look at a necklace, then walk out and realize hours later that that same necklace is around your neck and you can't get rid of it." Chris wouldn't release her, and instead steered her away from the stand, where Clary couldn't help but take a last glance at the women. She was gone, and in her place stood a little girl, sitting on a stool with her eyes closed. Clary thought this was perhaps her granddaughter, but then the little girl opened her eyes, only to reveal she only had one.

Clary quickly looked away before she could regret it.

Eventually Chris let her go, and they continued to walk around the shops. He had let her buy a pretty patterned shawl from a young women who held a small infant in her arms. She had grabbed Clary's hands and kissed them when she had given the women an uncertain amount of money for it, considering that she didn't know how much the money here was worth. Apparently, she'd given her a lot. When the women let her go, she had tears in her eyes, and Clary smiled sweetly and brushed her fingers across the infant's forehead. Clary had only bought the shawl because she wanted a souvenir, something she wasn't able to get in Chicago, but now she thought she'd use it as a scarf.

They had bought food as they walked too, street vendors were practically shoving sticks of sweet smelling meats into their hands, little cookies and spicy foods that made Clary also get a water bottle to sooth her tongue. Of course, they paid way too much for what is was worth, something the buyers didn't bother to correct, but Chris didn't mind, and Clary didn't either. Some of these people really looked like they needed the money anyways.

The sun had completely set, and there weren't many light bulbs here, so most of the light source came from torches hanging on walls of buildings and lanterns that appeared to be everywhere. Somehow, it gave the place a nicer look. Even though the sun was gone, there appeared to be more people out, as if the day had just begun for them. Most of them probably waited for the day to cool down a bit before going out, and Clary didn't blame them, even she could feel the remnants of the sun's blaze, even when she had gotten there at dusk.

As they began to walk away from the larger crowds, Clary heard something that sounded like a potted vase shatter. She turned towards it, and found a small boy, maybe around seven to nine years old, wearing dirty clothes and with disheveled black hair, and tanned skin, standing in front of the scattered remains of something that was made of dried clay. The boy seemed to be apologizing to the owner of the stand of where the he must have gotten the pot, and was trying to pick up the pieces, attempting not to cry. The owner was yelling at him, the man held what looked like a riding crop in one hand, threatening the boy with it. Clary looked around, trying to see if the boy's parents were anywhere. She couldn't see anyone coming to him, but the boy kept looking up with a pleading expression on his face.

She followed his gaze towards a group of men, all dressed the same way. The men had something like shawls around their heads as well, there were six of them, except the one in front seemed to have taken off his shawl. He looked at the boy, Clary assumed he was the father, the way the kid kept looking at him, but he didn't do anything. The father had the same expression on his face as when Clary had begged her mother to help her clean the grape juice she had spilled on Luke's couch in his house. That expression that said _You did this, now you face the consequences._ But this was too much, even Jocelyn had had some pity in her eyes, but this man didn't even seem to care about the trouble his son was in.

"Clary, where are you going?" Chris asked her as she began to weave her way through people towards the boy.

"I'm going to help someone." She said simply as she searched her pocket for money, and pulled out a wad of it.

"Clary you can't help every person you see," he tried to grab a hold of her arm again, but she twisted it away before he could. He looked at her with his deep black eyes for only a second, but then he nodded, as if giving her consent.

She ran towards the boy, careful not to run too fast so that she used her Shadowhunter speed. The man was already raising his arm, his riding crop high in the air. Clary's eyes rapidly scanned the area, only to determine that no one was watching. Or rather, they chose to ignore it. They knew what was happening, but it didn't bother them. _This either happens all the time, or they're too afraid to stop it._

As fast as her normal human pace could take her, Clary shot past people, catching some insulted stares and perhaps some cursing, if she spoke Arabic. By the time she had caught up to where the boy and the shop owner were, she grasped him by the upper arm, pulled him back, and raised her arm to stop the riding crop from hitting either of them. _Thwack._ The crop was painful, but it was nothing compared to the blows she'd gotten from the bamboo stick earlier. Still, on some level she could feel the sting of where the riding crop made slammed into her skin, right on her forearm. Clary assumed that if her shirt sleeve were there, it would have been sliced through.

Suddenly, everyone was watching them. Women and children had gasped at the sight of the shop owner attacking the foreign, white haired girl who had been kind to them all. Some people were yelling at him, or were they yelling at her, for throwing herself to protect the boy. Either way, she didn't care. Clary calmly unclenched her right arm, the one that had been whipped, and revealed the money that she had there. Giving it to the shop owner, who didn't know whether to accept it or not, she noticed that behind the row of vases that he sold, was a box full of not quite fresh fruits. There were apples with rotten holes, and bruised bananas, there were pineapples and kiwis and baskets of blueberries mixed with strawberries. _He was going for the fruit, but knocked down one of the vases…._

While the shop owner seemed to be counting his money, Clary used this advantage to very quickly, using some of Sebastian's speed, snatch a small basket of fruits and a cluster of not so bruised bananas. Still holding the boy's upper arm with her left hand, she pulled him off a couple off stores down, and hid in one them. It sold scarfs and shawls and decorative blankets, so they could hide behind all of them.

"Here," she said kneeling down on one knee, though she knew that the boy couldn't speak English. She handed him the fruits and let him go.

"Be careful next time," She whispered to him, "There might not be anyone to help you, so don't go back near that guy, okay?"

She stood back up, gave him a kiss on the forehead, and turned around to go back to where Chris had stayed. But before she could take three steps, she felt a tug on her shirt sleeve. She looked back and saw the little boy looking up at her. It felt very weird for someone to look up at her, most of the time she was the one who had to be looking up at someone, so this made her feel more in charge, responsible for the boy.

"Yes?" she asked.

To her surprise, he answered in perfect English, "Thank you. You saved me from harm and have given me food. You truly are the white angel." His little voice was so cute, and his big bright brown eyes caught her heart.

And with that he scampered away, not even giving her a chance to say 'Your welcome,' or to ask where he had learned English.

Clary felt a strange feeling in her heart, and tried to determine what is was. By the time she made it back to Chris, he looked at her and asked, "What's wrong? You look like something's puzzling you."

She could only answer with, "I think my maternal instincts have kicked in back there."

Chris gave her a scrutinizing look, then softened his features while saying, "Well you still look like Clary, you're all white now, but you're Clary."

They laughed, a strange bubbly feeling that they could share, and continued to wander around town.

Chris and she circled around to a less crowded part of the village, where they could hardly hear people shouting, children laughing and running. The area they were around seemed more malicious and deserted compared to the happy crowd of people, but she didn't feel in any danger. There were little people here, mostly men at one another's front door, chatting in Arabic, drinking alcohol.

"I'm still hungry." She said abruptly.

Chris laughed. "We ate a whole buffet back there and you still want to eat something?"

"That was not eating, that was merely tasting. Plus we were moving, so I walked it all off." Clary pointed out.

"Well, I'm not really hungry anymore, but let's find somewhere we can sit down and eat." He said.

He suddenly eyed her forearm, where she had been hit with the riding crop. She hadn't noticed that she had developed a bruise, but it hadn't hurt at the time, probably from the rush of adrenaline she had while trying to reach the boy first. Chris was walking on her right side, so with his left he brushed his fingers over the bruise. It took all of Clary's restraint to not pull away as soon as fingers came in contact with her skin.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

Clary lied and shook her head. At least it hadn't penetrated her skin, which would have caused it to bleed.

Chris slowly nodded, like he was trying to figure out if she was lying or not. He most likely knew she was, and was just giving her the benefit of the doubt. His eyes scanned the area around them as they walked lazily, until he perked up.

"This way," he said as she followed him in through a doorway which was covered by a cloth hanging in front of it. Ducking under it, Clary found herself in a little pub, the room was mostly made of compacted mud and Earth, but it was cozy, if not a bit too hot. There were wooden tables and chairs around the room, and a main bar counter with high stools for people to sit in. Chris took her to a table all the way on the farthest side of the pub, where an old women gave them menus. Again, Clary couldn't read the language, so she looked mainly at the pictures and sometimes drawings of the food.

"How did you know this place was here?" Clary asked Chris when she decided to just order some Shish Kebabs. "I would have walked right past it, and it's not like there was sign or anything saying it sold food, it just had a door."

Chris put down his menu, and raised his arm towards the women to order. "As a Shadowhunter, you have to know how to recognize these kinds of places. This isn't just an ordinary pub, long ago it served only to Nephilim, and was concealed under glamour so that no one but us could find it."

"Just like Taki's ," Clary breathed.

"Where?" Chris asked, confused.

"Never mind, so how do you recognize places like these?" Clary had to wait for her answer, as the women who had given them their menus came, and they both pointed to the things that they wanted. The women quickly looked at it, and nodded, walking away.

"The key to finding these places, is feel. You'll have to feel the atmosphere, recognize it. Sometimes there may also be glamour, such as the waitress being a warlock, or the name of the place hidden behind it in languages that humans wouldn't recognize." He explained.

"Languages such as demonic ones?" she asked, fully immersed in their conversation.

"Exactly, there might also be runes inscripted secretly underneath windows, over doorways, etc." He added, "I can't teach you by telling you, just try it. Feel this place, recognize its air, and the way it comforts you slightly, as if you belong here."

Clary did, and slowly, she began to feel what he described. When she first entered, she felt cozy, relaxed. However, now she could feel at one with this place, her blood called out to it, and she could literally feel the souls of the hundreds of other Shadowhunters that have come here before her.

"Can you feel it?" Chris asked, watching her face for a reaction.

Clary nodded her head. "It's like, like I was meant to be here. No, like I've been here before." She always felt confident at Taki's, but she never remembered feeling this. Now she knew why the gang always liked going there, it wasn't because they preferred it. Their blood called to it.

She relaxed in her chair, making all the tension leave her body. "Well, you do learn something every day." She gave the pub a small grin.

Chris returned her grin, even though she hadn't directed it at him, and leaned away from the table as the old women was back with their food. Clary's Kebabs were steaming, and looked juicy and delicious. She bit into it, it tasted juicy too, with a bit of spice. She looked over at what Chris had ordered and saw that he had a small bowl of soup, when he lifted his spoon, she saw pieces of chopped up cauliflower and carrot.

"I thought you said that you weren't really hungry?" She looked at him suspiciously, lifting another Kebab to her mouth.

"I always feel like I never eat enough when I'm around you, plus it would be rude of me to just sit here and watch you eat, so naturally I ordered something small." Chris said, a slight teasing tone in his voice with a crooked smile.

Clary suppressed an embarrassed blush. People always made fun of her for her ability to eat so much, despite her small form. Chris laughed, and as they continued eating, Chris commenting her on how 'nobody was going to steal her food, no need to eat so fast' as where Clary would kick his shins and say he'd better finish his soup before she took it, when a group of men walked into the pub.

She tried not to stare as she sluggishly recognized the group. Six of them, all wearing the same outfits. Baggy looking black pants, beige boots, a red belt and black shirt with blue sleeves, as well as a blue cape over it. They looked exactly like Aladdin's father from 'The King of Thieves.' Except this time they were all covered in shawls, so Clary couldn't identify which one was the boy's father from earlier.

She felt someone's gaze on her, and quickly turned back to Chris before she could make eye contact with one of the six men that were watching her.

"Chris, do you see those men that just walked in?" She whispered quietly, trying not to move her mouth too much and disguising it as she took another bite of her last Kebab.

Chris, noticing her overly calm demeanor, looked at the men without moving his head, his eyes moving, watching the men as they each took a seat at the bar. He nodded.

"One of those guys is the father of the little boy I save from earlier," She said. She didn't know why she was whispering, they probably couldn't understand her anyway. But if the little boy could speak English, he probably learned it from someone close.

Chris didn't say anything, so Clary said, "I don't like the look of them, maybe we should leave." Before she could even finish her sentence, she saw Chris's eyes widen, he swore under his breath, and he quickly raised his hand while searching his pocket with the other, taking out money and leaving it on the table.

Catching Clary's questioning gaze, he said under his breath, "You're right, we have to leave. Now." He stood up, taking Clary's hand in his and quickly exited the pub, he looked in both directions of the street, and turned left. Clary couldn't remember which way was back towards the house, so she assumed he did.

She was about to say that she was glad he agreed with her, but what was with the hurry, when just as they turned the corner of the street, and saw that the men had left the pub as well.

And were coming their way.

"Chris what is going on?" She asked quickly, picking up her pace so that Chris wasn't dragging her and she was right next to him. Seeing that she could keep up, he released her hand.

Still walking fast, he said, "I thought something was familiar about those guys when I saw them back when you were helping that little boy."

"Wait, you know them" Clary asked Chris and she turned another corner. The streets were rather empty, and she could tell Chris didn't like that. They would need cover, so they went to the more crowded streets, where men were crowding doors, clubs and liquor shops filled to the brim with intoxicated people, both male and female. Though the females here seemed a little more promiscuous than earlier, their clothes slipping off of their shoulders while they sat rather close to the men.

Chris picked up his speed. Clary couldn't see the men anymore, but was that good or bad?

"I didn't know them," Chris answered a few more streets later, "Valentine did. You see, those men used to be Shadowhunters."

"Used to be?" Clary asked as they swerved around a couple of drunk guys running down the street.

"Yeah, used to be. When Shadowhunters are penalized for something they did, they are stripped of their marks." He said.

"And what did these guys do to get their marks stripped?" Clary hated being so ignorant on stuff like this.

"For assisting Valentine in a crime he committed back then, it was just after Jocelyn organized everyone to come and hunt down those who were still a part of the Circle. I don't remember what it was that they did, but I guess punishments here are much crueler than in other places, so they were stripped of their marks." Suddenly, up ahead, three of the men in blue were waiting, so Chris sidestepped into an alley and run down another street.

"Then why are they chasing us?" Clary was so confused.

"Valentine had told them after to not worry about anything, that he would help them regain their marks. I remember about nine years ago, we met up with them, and they were angry at Valentine, because he still hadn't given them their marks. We had to run away and escape from them then. I was only about seven or eight, but even so they recognize me because I look just like Valentine. I should have known they could have been here." Chris continued to curse as they dove into another alley.

"So they're chasing us for revenge?" Clary questioned. That was just stupid. "Do they know that Valentine is dead?"

"Of course they know, that's why they chase us. The sins of the father will be visited upon the children. They either hope that I am continuing what Valentine began, and will threaten us in order to get what they want, or will kill us at their leisure." Chris continued, a grim look on his face.

Seeing the look on Clary's face, he added, "And yes, they'll kill you too, even if they don't remember Valentine having a daughter, they've probably already heard the news that's been going on around the Shadowhunter world recently, plus the fact that you're with me and that your appearance is a lot more like mine now."

Clary pouted, considering that she was going to ask him that, but she also had another question in mind, "I wasn't going to ask that," she lied, "I was going to say that if all of their marks are stripped, why are we running from them, they're just mundanes. Plus, can't you just, like poof us back to the house, the way you did when you took me there first, or when you and Jace left from the library back in the Institue. That trinket that you talked about when I got here, better yet, why not open a Portal?"

Chris answered her more steady than she thought he would, "For your fist question, we are running from them because if I remember correctly, two of the men chasing us are warlocks, rather nasty ones, I can't remember everything about it but I do remember some crucial details the last time Valentine and I had to escape from them, ones that I'd hate to get into."

Clary felt so weird on the inside, for the past few months, she had always felt two side, her side, where there was her mother, Jace, Simon, etc, and Valentine's side, where there was Sebastian and all the other henchmen that Valentine had under him. Never in her life did she ever think she'd have to run away from Valentine's enemies, who she'd assume were on her side. The fact that she was made her begin to struggle with what side she was on now.

But now was no time to consider goods and bads, because Chris wasn't finished, "As for your second question, the trinket that I use to transport us to home works on rechargeable energy. Meaning that when I use it once, I either have to feed it more energy, or wait for it to replenish itself. The trinket requires a week's worth of refueling, kind of stupid, I know. We also can't open a Portal because the house isn't able to just be Portaled into, there is magic restraining that from happening."

"So the only way in is through the front door?" Clary asked.

"Exactly," he said, glad that she was all caught up now.

They continued running, making beelines through people, avoiding the light from lanterns and hugging shadows. Whenever Clary thought they had ran far enough, or that they had lost them, they would pop out of nowhere. Chris tried to run through crowds of people, to hide themselves, but there weren't that many people, plus the only crowds they could seem to find were in front of bars and such, but to be able to find those while get back home seemed too much work. While they had been running, Clary had put on the shawl that she had purchased earlier, and tried to wrap in around her head as well as possible. It wasn't that hard to look for two white haired people.

"This is ridiculous. Can't we just run as fast as we can back to the house? I can assure you I can keep up with you." Clary suggested as they doubled back as they saw a blue robed figure up ahead.

"I have no doubt that you can, but remember they have warlocks and if we try to make a break for it they'll probably use magic to stop us." Chris countered.

"Then why haven't they done so yet?" Clary really didn't think it was that impossible. In these types of moments all she wanted to do was run, run, run, but Chris wasn't letting her do that.

"They're trying to tire us out, so that they can enjoy themselves as they punish us," Chris said.

"You know, this isn't what I'd expect from you. I would have imagined that you confronted them all and kick all of their asses, even with the warlocks, laugh in their faces when they demand what they want, that kind of stuff." Clary muttered. Actually, it was what she wanted to do right now. Show them who they're dealing with, why not? They picked a fight, let's see how long they last before they beg for mercy….

Clary stopped her thoughts as she realized what was happening with her. Sebastian's instincts were kicking in, she wanted to do what Sebastian would do in this. Not only did she have his strength and knowledge, she had his way of thinking. So far, she assumed she had been suppressing it, maybe she's too stubborn to let another mind take over hers, but now, in the heat of chase, she let her boundaries slip.

Chris looked back at her while running. What about him? Was he running instead of fighting because now Clary had his mentality? Does the rune not only replicate people's traits, but steal them from them? But Chris was still pretty strong, stronger than her still, but maybe only his though process was stolen?

Well now was a lousy time to figure that out.

Chris spoke with his head over his shoulder, "Would you prefer we stop and fight? I'm only doing this because I assumed you wouldn't want to."

Oh, he was doing it for her.

"I-" suddenly a huge crowd exited from a building, Clary didn't smell much alcohol on them, so she knew it wasn't a bar or something. She and Chris together lunged themselves into the crowd, ducking their heads and hunching their shoulders. There were a lot of people, enough that Clary hoped they could figure out what to do in this situation. The people around her began to move, and Clary followed them in order to stay concealed within them. She followed the crowd, which seemed to be heading down the street, probably going home, when she realized she couldn't find Chris.

Clary turned on her heel, looking back, and seeing that the group she and Chris had gotten into had split in two. The other group was heading towards the opposite direction as Clary's, and she didn't know how long she could stay with hers before the group dispersed and there wasn't so many to hide within. Not to mention that she had no clue how to get around here, so she couldn't go off too far, she'd lose Chris. She checked every head in the group of people she was with. No, he wasn't here, meaning that he was in the other group. What luck.

She didn't know what to do, her nerves felt all wound up and she was starting to feel panic in her chest. She hardly ever got lost, it was impossible for her to get lost at home, she needed to focus on something, so she continued to walk with the crowd, who were taking such a slow pace, when she felt a little tug on her shirt sleeve. Clary almost thought it was it was Chris and her heart did a little jump, when she realized that it wasn't Chris.

It was the little boy from before.

Clary was more surprised at the fact that she felt relieved at the thought of finding Chris, than finding the little boy. Or rather, him finding her.

The little boy pulled her to the edge of the crowd, which Clary was trying to not do, but then she noticed that there was a space between the building that all the people came out from and the next building, a small narrow alley of sorts, so she allowed herself to be pulled into it, concealing both of them in darkness.

When they were both away from the crowd, Clary turned to the little boy and asked, "What are you doing here? Isn't it a little dark for you to be out?"

Instead of answering her, he bluntly, "My dad wants to kill you."

Clary's blood froze. She was such a naïve moron sometimes, how could she have forgotten that the boy was the _son_ of one of the men who wanted to kill them. Maybe this was a trap, in that case, was the kid working with his father, did he pull her out here so that his dad could catch him.

Before either of them could say anything else, Clary whipped around her backpack and pulled out her stele, holding it out in front of her.

The boy's eyes widened, seeming to sense that he knew of her suspicion, "No, no. I don't want to hurt you! I want to help!" He held his hands out in front of him, his face becoming vulnerable, the same expression he had on him when the man from the shop tried to hit him with his riding crop. Clary felt guilt in her stomach, for causing him to be that scared, but how did she know if he was telling the truth?

"Why would you help me?" Clary asked sharply, lowering her stele, but keeping it in between them. She absently wondered if he knew what a stele was. If a man gets his marks taken away, can his children still be a Shadowhunter? Clary thought they could, Nephilim blood is always dominant.

"You saved me from getting hurt, now I have to save you. It's the rules." He explained.

"What rules?" Clary asked.

"My mother always told me that if someone does something nice to you, you return the kindness, as least, she used to always tell me." His eyes had gotten sad, and he hugged his arms around himself. He was so short, he only made it up to Clary's stomach, but in his eyes she could see someone smart and intelligent. "You remind me of my mom you know? She was the only one who would ever save me from getting hurt."

Clary sighed, and put her stele in her jeans. She kneeled down, "Where did you learn English?"

"My father always travels between here and Europe, so I learned the language." He told her, "Will you let me help you?"

Clary smiled slightly, feeling warmth from this child who was trying to help her. "Wouldn't you father get angry at you for helping me? I can imagine that he doesn't even know you're here."

He shook his head, "He never cares about me, he doesn't care where I am, as long as I listen to him. He's always angry."

"How can you help me though?" Clary, while thankful to the kid, was silently counting the seconds since she and Chris separated. Did he know where she was? Was he looking? She wondered if he was still in that crowd. "Besides, I have a friend that I need to find."

"Don't worry, I'll find him for you!" He looked exited, like he was happy to help. It's just like little kids to be happy to help with grown-up stuff. "But first, you have to hide!"

"Okay but where?" She asked as he grabbed hold up her hand, helped her stand even though she could do it all by herself, and pulled her even deeper into narrow alleyway. He made her face the wall that was the side of the building where the huge crowd had come from. She felt magic, like a glamour was hiding something from her vision, so she used the method she always used to past it. She imagined that she was scrubbing it off, like paint, peeling back layers, until she could see the door that was there. It was wooden, and chipped and cracked, Clary could have easily broken it down even without Sebastian's strength.

The boy opened it, Clary stopped before entering to ask him, "Wait, what is this place?"

He turned around, feet on the threshold, "It's, a place for entertainment, I guess, don't worry, I have a plan."

"Is this place for Shadowhunters? Why was it hidden?" She felt ridiculous asking these things to a young child. It should be the other way around.

"This place used to be for Shadowhunters, but that was a long time ago. This used be the only entrance." He beckoned her further, so she stepped in through the door, and the boy closed it behind her. They were hidden darkness, but Clary's eyes soon adjusted, and she could see things better. She could hear the kid rummaging around for something.

"By the way, what's your name?" Clary asked. She had to stop referring to him as, 'the boy' or 'the kid.'

He paused, as if no one had ever stopped to learn anything about him. Then a green light pierced the darkness, a witchlight stone that he held in his hand. They were in what seemed to be a storage room, there were boxes piled against each other, some over flowing with cloths and small flats.

"My mother named me Ghayth, because it means rain, or showers. On the day I was born, it rained heavily, something that hardly happens here, and since my mother almost never sees rain, she named me it, because I represented the one happy day that everyone had, and the happiness that I had brought her." His eyes were happy, before they darkened, "But my father said my name was no longer to be Ghayth, that I would need name that would work better in Europe, so he named me Brennan."

"Brennan isn't a bad sounding name," Clary meant it.

"Yes, but it means 'sorrow'. My father said that I've brought nothing but sadness to him, that I've been of no use to him." He hung his head, showing that for a young boy, he had been through more than he let on.

Clary felt that twinge of maternal caring unfurl in her chest again. She sighed, _At this rate I'm gonna be attached to this kid…_

"I don't know about your father, but so far, you haven't brought me any sorrow, Ghayth," she said, using his preferred name.

Ghayth smiled, "Really? Even when I cause you to get hit by that riding crop?"

She nodded, returning his smile, "Don't even mention it, it's what friends do."

"Friends?" His eyes grew wide and his smile grew wider, "Thank you white angel!"

Clary tried not to appear taken aback, "Okay, you've told me your name, now I'll tell you mine, just so that you don't make it a habit of calling me 'white angel.' I'm Clary."

"Clary," he said, saying it slow.

"Yes, Clary. Now, what do are we going to do here? Should I just wait, or…" Clary was cut off when all of a sudden a light flared up in the room. A group of five young women, older teenagers really, about seventeen to nineteen years old, walked in, two of them holding torches. Some began to rummage through the boxes, looking for clothes, as they chatted in Arabic. Before Clary could hide, which was really stupid of her for not doing, one of them spotted her, and began to talk to her, pointing at her and calling the others. She of course, couldn't understand a word.

Before any confrontation could occur, Ghayth approached the oldest looking one, having hidden his witchlight, and started talking to her. He kept pointing at Clary, and then at the boxes of clothes, and back to Clary. The lady shook her head many times, yelling at him, but Ghayth was persistent. It seemed that they were arguing about something.

Clary couldn't help but feel nervous as the other four girls kept staring at her, she tried not to look, wanting yet not wanting to know what they were talking about. They kept making hand gestures, pointing at her chest and legs, and making indications that she could only assume was about her height. Then started taking out some clothes from the boxes, holding it up, then look at her, then shake it as if they didn't like it. Like they're were picking something out for her.

What was Ghayth doing?

After what seemed like an eternity of awkwardly standing there, Ghayth and the women seemed to have come to an agreement, she nodded towards the girls, who grabbed what they had been looking for, and walked out of the room, but not before one of them gave a small bundle of red cloth to Ghayth.

As soon as they were gone, Clary said, "What was that all about?"

Ghayth looked strange, like he was trying to break something to her, but didn't know how, "Well, there's been a change of plans."

"Change of plans? What was your original plan?" She asked.

"To have you wait here while I looked for your friend so that I could have you two hide here until I tell you my dad and his group of friends were gone." He said pleadingly, as if he were trying to convince her that was what he really had been trying.

"Okaaaaay, then what changed?" She didn't like where this was going.

"Well, the ladies that just walked in here, they're performers here. They have this sort of, gypsy dance. They perform it here, it's kind of a big thing in this village." He explained, his face getting red.

"Yeeeeess," she dragged the word out, wanting him to get to the point already.

He sighed, and blurted it all out, "They said that they won't let you stay here, and that if you don't leave they'll report you to authorities, or will ask some of their body guards –yes they have body guards because some men can't keep their hands to themselves- to kick you out. I begged for the lady to let you stay, I know her, and I've helped her run errands a lot, but she says only performers can stay here."

Clary's mind made it to his point before he could finish, "So you mean-"

"By any chance can you dance?" He said holding out the red cloth to her.

"What!?" Clary shrieked.

"It's the only way, or else they'll kick you out." He pleaded.

Clary could think of a million things she could do instead of this, including using a glamour and hide behind the boxes and continue to wait for Ghayth while he found Chris.

She explained this to him, but he shook his head, saying, "It's only a matter of time before my father and his men find you, and trust me, they're very good at finding. My dad doesn't like entering this place, nor does he like gypsy dances, so if you're disguised as one he won't find you!"

She pouted, trying to find a way to say no to Ghayth, who was unintentionally making puppy eyes at her, reminding her a lot of Simon when they were little, when he would lose his glasses and run around everywhere to find them, his pupils large and panicked.

She relented, grabbing the red clothes from his hands, and making him turn away while she hid behind one of the boxes. Clary felt awkward, feeling with her hands the soft texture of the cloth. It was dark, deep, red, and as Clary magically figured out how to put it on, for she discovered that it had various parts to slip on and tie, she tried to figure out as much about her current situation as possible.

"So, how long until the next show?" she asked Ghayth.

He cocked his head to the side, "About, twenty minutes, I think."

Clary looked up from where she was hiding, looking at the back of his head, "Twenty minutes! They expect me to be able figure out how to dance like them _and _memorize their choreography in twenty minutes!"

"Choreography?" Ghayth asked, not knowing what that was.

"The dance moves, you know, their routine." She explained.

"Oh, I guess they'll just put you in the back, there are more of them than just the ones we saw, so they'll probably have you so that no one in the crowd sees you." He said.

"I guess I'll just have to copy their moves." Clary was slightly grateful for the piñata less- training she and Chris had gone through earlier. That required much of concentrating on others every move, predicting what they're doing next, and that was when they were hardcore, barely visible to the human eye fighting. If what little she knew about gypsy dancing was correct, it was a bunch of smoothly coordinate movements that flowed together, but was much slower so Clary could watch it. With Sebastian's sight, she'd be able to imitate the people around her.

Feeling better about this, she glanced down at herself, which didn't really give her much of a thought about how she looked, so she walked around the boxed filled room until she found a mirror propped up on the wall. Clary looked at herself, then rubbed her eyes and looked again.

_By the Angel…. If only mom could see me now…._

Even Clary had to admit, she looked beautiful. The outfit she was wearing was exactly like Selena Gomez's red gypsy looking outfit in her video 'Come and Get it'

Writer's POV: I didn't know how to describe what she wore, and I really liked Selena's look in that video, well that red one in particular, so if you wanna know how it is, just look it up. My apologies for any inconveniences.

Her white hair looked dazzling, like snow, she wore a transparent red hood that reached her forehead, and she pulled her hair out from behind so that she could have it in front. The red of her outfit made her skin pale, but in a gorgeous way. Her large black eyes captured the eye as she looked at her small face, and she wondered if she could wear some red lipstick, to put more color in her face. She was petite, but that was what made her look out of this world.

She looked like an anime goddess.

Ghayth came walking towards her, stared at her, and then his eyebrows creased, as if he was thinking long and hard about something. Then, with a look of determination, he put his hands in his pockets, and pulled out what looked like that jewelry that the gypsies wear around their heads, the jewels laying on their foreheads. He stood on a box near her, and carefully put the head jewelry on her head, over the transparent red hood.

The small jewels stopped just above the spot between her eyebrows, a red ruby with little diamonds hanging around it. By itself, the head rest didn't look like much, but it completed Clary's outfit. She was a bit embarrassed, because the outfit left her legs and arms bare, and was pretty much see through except for her chest and lower section. The strands that hung loose seemed to give the illusion that she was fully clothed though.

Ghayth told her, his voice quiet, "The jewels were my mother's, I'll lend them to you."

Clary was stupefied, "No! You don't have to lend me anything," her hand was already reaching for the jewels on her head, but Ghayth stopped her.

"My mother was the only person who could make the jewels shine, but it looks like you can too." He smiled faintly. For a kid who was only about nine, he was very mature, and held too much sadness that no child should ever have to carry, but with sadness, came awareness, he knew what was going on around him, and Clary respected him for that.

So if he was willing to let her borrow, because she was going to return it, of that she did not doubt, that meant he really must want her to. Clary put her hand down, placed it on his cheek, allowing him to lean on it for a few seconds, before she removed it and said, "Alright! Let's stops wasting time, because I think we've been doing a lot of that!" She smiled at him, "Now, go find my friend. His name is Chris, and he looks just like me, same hair, same eyes, we're practically twins except for the height thing, you'll know him when you see him,"

"Wait, don't you want me to translate for you!" he argued.

"I'll do fine, don't worry. What bothers me is if Chris will trust you or not," Clary paused for a second, then sighed, "If he doesn't trust you or something, tell him that if he doesn't come with you, that I'll never burn his bacon the way he likes it."

Ghayth looked very confused, "Burnt bacon?"

"Don't question what I just told you to say, just say it." Clary eyed him, "Now move, I got a dance to figure out how to do." He ran through the boxes and out the old door.

All this was starting to get to Clary's head. She had to disguise herself as a gypsy dancer and dance like one, all in the next twenty minutes while a boy she just met yet already seemed to adore was in charge of finding her brother because she couldn't go out and find him due to the fact that there are men out there who want to kill them all because of something her father did, not to mention that those men have warlocks amongst them who are capable of doing things that scare even Chris which really put a stone in her stomach.

"And what do I do during all of this? Dance like a gypsy, why not? It's not like anyone could come in through the door of the place and instantly kill me?" Clary was starting to pace nervously, and she was talking to herself, and chatting very fast. Not good signs.

She forced herself to stay put, and take a deep breath. Then another, and another. _Empty your mind…._She closed her eyes, getting a feel for her surroundings around her, slowing her heart rate, and heightening her senses, if she could do this, then copying a bunch of movements won't be so hard. She could do this.

_But you don't have to! _Her mind raged, _who's gonna stop you from hiding in ones of these large boxes until Ghayth gets here! Who's gonna find you when you use , becyour awesome stealth and run away from all this!_

Ghayth stopped her. She'd only known him for a few minutes, but the sight of him as he looked up at her, calling her white angel, made her maternal senses kick in. Also, she could feel a bit of Sebastian in her, telling her to accept the challenge. On some point, Clary could feel herself want to do this, to try this. She's seen some gypsy dances before, and would always be left with the sudden temptation to try it. Didn't all girls, or was it just her?

_But why?! _Her inner Clary screamed.

Why not? Her other half, the more Sebastian half, argued. It's not like these people have any expectations of you, not like you'll see them again after tonight.

Someone was calling to her Arabic, a young women who stood in the doorway, beckoning her to come. As Clary walked over to her, her mind clear and vivid, her last thoughts leaving her head as the last of her worries left her.

Why not….

**Lacie: Again, I made this chapter too long for what I wanted, so I guess the whole Arabia thing will carry on to the next chapter. Hey Chris is back.**

**Chris: You horrible person, I wanted to see Clary dance.**

**Clary: Chris you're an attic jostled bumrag, shut your mouth cause its full of clart.**

**Chris: ….O-o you okay there?**

**Lacie: Um, Clary, wrong book series.**

**Clary: I don't care what book series he's in, he'll always be a ninny**

**Chris: I thought I was a bumrag?**

**Clary: You're a ninny.**

**Chris: What is that?**

**Clary: NINNYNINNYNINNYNINNY**

**Lacie: ENOUGH!**

…**..**

**Lacie: Good, anyways you guys. I just realized that school is coming WAY too fast. That's why I updated on this, unusual day.**

**Chris: Yeah, what happened to Tuesdays and Wednesdays.**

**Clary: You barking bumrag she updated on a Thursday too.**

**Lacie: I update around those days, and Clary, I think you need a book series check.**

**Clary: I'll do the thing if you forgive me**

**Please review or favorite or follow, thanks for reading, we post a new chapter every tues/wedne/thurs/day!**

**Lacie: ReViEw rEvIeW REVIEW**

**Chris: Start the next chapter I want to see clary dance.**

***smack*smack**smack***

**{Forgive Lacie-Abyss, for any, umm typo's and not good writing}**


	7. Saudi Arabia part 2

**Lacie: Uh-Oh, I'm in trouble aren't I?**

**Chris: It had been a week. You have not updated yet.**

**Clary: You led people to think you updated in Tues/Wedn/Thursday. Do you know how bad that is?**

**Lacie: IM SORRY. I started watching this anime, which was only like 26 episodes so I finished it in like three days, but then that led to reading the manga, and that led to me not starting the chapter until like Friday.**

**Chris: NO EXCUSES**

**Lacie: And the yesterday was my baby brother's party. YAY HE'S 1! So I didn't have time to work on it. So today as soon as we finished cleaning all of the mess that the little kids made (their barking mothers don't teach them to behave at other peoples houses grrrr) I worked for like THREE HOURS and finally finished.**

**Clary: About time, do I really gypsy dance?**

**Chris: Does she? :D**

**Lacie: YES**

**Clary: NO!**

**Lacie: Anyways guys I'm soryy, I know what its like to have to wait for an update, so I'm sorry for any of you who check to see if I update yet. This chapters got another surprise.**

**Clary: MORE?**

**Lacie: yeah!**

**Chris: Lacie-Abyss doesn't own the Mortal Instruments**

**Enjoy!**

**Chris/Sebastian POV**

"Tell me again why I'm supposed to trust you kid?" Sebastian, he refused to act like Chris towards anyone except for Clary, said as he glared at the runt who claimed to have helped his sister hide.

As soon as he had noticed that they had been separated, Sebastian had followed the group of people he was in until he had reached the nearest dark corner, and then tailed the other group to find Clary, all while keeping an eye out for the blue robed men that they had been running from. Even Sebastian knew that it was stupid of him to run away from such a mediocre gang of men, even if they had warlocks. True, he was aware of the powers that they possessed, but there was nothing that he would like to do more than kill them all before they let word spread that Valentine's children had been spotted in Saudi Arabia.

Really, he had only ran away because he had thought that it was what Clary would have preferred, that she'd be against killing them off. He was trying to be different with her (and only with her) which was why he hadn't even considered turning back and fighting them off, though he was prepared for it.

So when Clary had asked why he hadn't stopped and confronted them, he had to admit, he was taken aback. She didn't say that she had wanted to fight, but he had clearly seen the instinct to kill in her eyes, his eyes.

So this was what the rune did. Had she said yes, he would have immediately stopped running, and go someplace where they could fight without any of the locals noticing. But she hadn't had the chance to answer, and he had lost her. Following the group of people that she was in didn't help, and pretty soon they had dispersed, there was no one there anymore.

_She must have realized that she couldn't hide within the crowd forever, and left before I could find her to hide, but where? _

At that moment, he had begun to scan the streets where the group had previously walk past, to see if there was any places that would be suitable for a girl of Clary's size to hide in. He himself was hiding, in the shadows between two lanterns, he had regretted not bringing a hoodie for himself, to at least hide his white hair which stood out like fire in a dark cave. It was there that the kid had found him.

A small boy, Sebastian had immediately recognized him as the kid that Clary had saved, as well as the child of one of the men that were after him. That was his main reason for being precautious, and needless to say, when the kid introduced himself as Ghayth, saying that he knew where Clary was, Sebastian grew even more distraught. He had grabbed the kid by the arm, surveyed his environment before pulling him into a small alley which was right next to the building where the group of people they had hid within came out from.

There he had made his question, and the large eyes child looked up at him, almost as if comparing him to something, scrutinizing him.

"What are you looking at?" he asked, not too politely. He didn't have time for this, so he would have to be blunt.

"You sure are her brother, that's for sure," he said, almost to himself, "And you were definitely easier to find than I thought, the white an- I mean Clary, said so."

"What were you just about to call my sister?" Sebastian asked, genuinely curious, despite everything.

"The white angel," he answered without pause, as if referring to his sister as an angel while she had the characteristic of a demon was perfectly normal. Though he wasn't going to correct him in that.

"So wait, you've spoken to Clary? Look kid, or Ghayth, or whatever your name is, how do I know that you're not working with your dad? Where is Clary?" Sebastian had brandished his seraph blade, not worrying whether or not he had ever seen one before, especially when the kid's eyes looked at the blade with a spark of recognition, sparkling within the sudden fear that filled them.

Ghayth took a last look at the blade, and then with effort, slowly took his gaze off of it, as if determined not to let himself be intimidated by it. Sebastian had to admit, the kid was brave.

"I'm not working with my father, I've already explained my story to Clary, so if you want to know about me, ask her." He looked at Sebastian with determination, as if even though he had only known Clary for a matter of moment, he already trusted her with his life.

"But how do I know that?" Sebastian asked again, "Look. I'm on the run from your dad and his gang of rotten ex-Shadowhunters, I've lost my sister, and you've claimed to know where she is. You're the son of one of the men who want to kill me, give me one good reason as to why I shouldn't gut you right now and leave you as a message for your father?" Sebastian could feel his eyes growing darker and blacker, the whites as well. He could feel his body wanting to kill, to stop hiding at get rid of the worthless creatures that were ruining his time with Clary.

He didn't even give Ghayth time to respond. His voice calm but frigid and stern, "Grigori," the blade illuminated their scene, which on one point, Chris was aware of, and knew that he couldn't let himself be seen, but Sebastian didn't care, he saw a pest in the way and he was going to get rid of it.

He took a step towards Ghayth, watching his face for any change of emotion, his muscles for any attempt at running away. As well as any signs that he would try to contact his father to come save him, or call out to him.

However, before Sebastian could get closer, the kid looked him steady in the eye, and said in a voice that was way too mature for a nine year old, his face and eyes dead serious, "You know, you two look the same, and act the same, because Clary tried to scare me with her seraph blade as well, but something keeps telling me that even for siblings, you guys are worlds apart."

Something snapped inside of Sebastian, a cord that his demonic mind had tied. This kid, this _child, _had told him something that not even Clary would have been able to get through to him.

They were different, Clary and he.

No matter how much he tried to convince himself, or change himself, or change Clary, there would always be something different about him. It was something that Sebastian feared, a deep part of him that he never wanted anyone to know, possibly one of the only actual humane feelings he never had to replicate. Loneliness.

He had always brandished his power in the face of his enemies, boasted his superiority over those who wanted to step up to him, but in reality, what was the point in showing others how great you were, when there was nothing left to do? He was already at the top, he had yet to find someone who could beat him, so he had no one to compete with. Other Shadowhunters had grown up competing with one another, they all had a goal in mind, a line they wanted to meet. But for Sebastian, there was no working to get there, he was just, _there. _

Everyone was racing towards the finish line, he was just standing there, waiting behind it for somebody to reach it next.

He had hoped that Jace would be the one person who could be like him, they were raised in the same way, by the same man, learned much of the same things, surely they were a match for one another. But Jace had broken that expectation, he was too weak for Sebastian. Then came Clary, his own sister, who he desired and wished would come to understand his ways. When he had first met her, he many expectations of her as well, even though they were not brought up the same way, they held the same blood, and that was something that not even Jace could compete with. Yet Clary had also failed him, choosing Jace over him, because in the end, though they were the offspring of Jocelyn and Valentine, Sebastian's blood was different. He was demonic, she was angelic. It was just the way they were.

But then Clary created that rune, which changed her to be like _him_, something he could only dream of before. She had his strength, his knowledge, and based off of what she said back while they were running, his way of thinking. She had his hair and eye color for Raziel's sake! Even though he tried to not keep his hopes up, he very much wished for Clary to stay that way forever, and even if the rune eventually wears out, at least she could reapply it so that she can continue to be like him. So that he would no longer have to be the only one waiting at the top for everyone else to catch up.

Even so, Clary was not one hundred percent like him. No matter how alike they became, Clary would always be herself, she would always shine through her demonic façade, while his is a permanent state.

Now he really felt like killing the kid, but instead of that, he held the seraph blade between them, and asked through gritted teeth, "You haven't answered my question. Why. Shouldn't. I. Kill. You?"

Ghayth looked, surprisingly, prepared, "Clary told me to tell you something, in case you didn't believe me."

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, and cocking his white head he said, "Oh yeah? And what was that?"

"She said something like, if you don't trust me and come with me, she'll never burn your bacon the way you like it, or something like that. She was kind of nervous at the time, so maybe she messed up what she was trying to say. Do you have any clue what she meant?" Ghayth looked royally confused, as if he wasn't at all concerned about the blade in front of him and was really wondering as to what Clary had said by that.

Sebastian was trying not to laugh. The corners of his lips were raised and his mouth was skewered and pressed into a thin line, as if he was pressing back a sneeze. He tried to hide it behind a cough, which must have been pretty convincing, because Ghayth offered him a handkerchief. This kid, he just had his life threatened and he was offering handkerchiefs? He lifted his hand, telling Ghayth he didn't need it, then sighed and put the seraph blade away.

_Leave it to Clary to come up with a stupid yet surefire way to get me to trust a total stranger…._

"Alright Ghayth, where's Clary, which way?" He put his hands in his pockets, looking back into the mouth of the alley, to see if there was anyone around. They had been here for a couple of minutes now, if they didn't move quickly…..

"You must be intuitive, to have dragged me into this alley you know? Did you know about the door? Do you have some sort of special connection with your sister, are you two parabatai?" Ghayth asked about a million questions more, acting more like a child his age should.

Sebastian could feel his temper rise, but he ignored it, and kept a calm demeanor, "First of all, what are you talking about, what door? And second of all, how do you know Clary and I are siblings? Did she tell you?"

Ghayth gestured for him to follow him deeper into the alley, where he faced the wall that was the building where the group of people had exited from, "Clary didn't tell me that you guys were siblings, she said you were a friend of hers, but anyone can tell just by looking at you that you're related." Sebastian didn't doubt him there. "As for the door, I'm talking about this door." He pointed towards a space on the wall, and Sebastian could feel a glamour concealing something before his eyes could even look at the spot. He could usually see through glamours easily, but this one was particularly strong, so he used a technique that he hadn't used in a while. He pretended his mind was physically smashing into the glamour, breaking through it to see what was behind.

Sure enough, it worked, and Sebastian saw an old looking door that had obviously seen better days. How Ghayth had seen it that easily, was a mystery, so he assumed it was because the boy knew where it already was, or perhaps he was at the height of his age, where he could see past almost any glamour.

Ghayth opened the door, stepped through, and waited for Sebastian to step in before closing it. Immediately taking in his surroundings, Sebastian confirmed that they were in some kind of storage room, there were boxes everywhere, with robes and cloth and different jewelry hanging around everywhere. Yep, definitely a storage room, but for what?

"Where are we?" Sebastian asked flatly, wanting Ghayth to answer quickly.

"We're in the village's beloved place to come and see gypsy dancing. This place mostly holds there wardrobe," Ghayth was already zooming past the boxes, towards what looked to be like an exit of the room.

"I can see that," Sebastian said as he curiously inspected the contents of a box, mostly jewelry, and followed Ghayth through the mess, "But where's Clary?"

Ghayth stopped in the process of moving a box out the way so that there was more of a path to follow, but he stopped, and turned towards Sebastian. He didn't know why, but the kid looked very nervous, and guilty.

"Well, you see-" He was interrupted when a voice rang out, Sebastian was about to pull out his blade, when he realized that it wasn't coming from the room, but from beyond the room, behind the exit the Ghayth had been heading towards. It was the voice of a women, who seemed to be announcing something, but Sebastian couldn't tell. He had learned many languages, but Arabic had not been one of them.

"What was that, what did the women just say? And didn't you say Clary was here? Why didn't you just tell her to hide here?" Sebastian felt something was up.

Ghayth gulped, "The women said that the show was about to begin, and you know what, instead of me explaining it you, why don't you just come with me and see?"

**Clary POV**

Clary did not know how to dance.

She didn't know how to waltz, or do specific dance moves or anything. Whenever she was at clubs and such, she basically moved her body to the music, doing whatever felt right. She didn't like performing to people, and being on stage or anything. So, she should have felt filled to the brim with nerves right?

But she felt utterly calm, as if she knew exactly what she was doing.

When she had been called to leave the storage room, she was pulled into a room with mirrors and makeup and lots of perfume, probably the room where all the final touches were done to make them look beautiful. There were about twenty girls here, and all of them were zipping around, reapplying makeup, adjusting their clothes, and helping each other out. The girl who had shown Clary in took a look at her, a watchful look in her eye, then walked to one of the many vanity mirrors on the wall, grabbed a red lipstick amongst the dozens of products, and walked up to her, a questionable look in her expression as if asking Clary for permission.

Clary nodded, then tilted her head up as the taller girl applied the lipstick on her, making her blew into a handkerchief, and then she pinched Clary's cheeks.

"Ow!" Clary exclaimed, "What was that for?" She knew it was pointless to ask that, but then she looked at herself in the mirror and saw that the pinch made her cheeks brighter.

She turned back towards the girl, to smile and apologetic smile, but the girl had already gone off, probably to make some last second touches to herself as well. Pretty soon an older looking women came from a doorway which was covered by a nailed up blanket, and said something to all of them. All of the girls stopped what they were doing, and left through the doorway, Clary following them in the end.

They were brought to a large half circle room, the flat part of the half circle was made by what looked to be a sort of stage curtain. Everyone immediately walked to certain places and sat on the ground, their knees tucked under them while they bended over so that their foreheads touched the ground. Their hands lay on either side of them. Clary just noticed that she was the only one in red, all the other girls wore deep greens , dark blacks, and pale yellows. Her red and paleness made her stand out like a dot on a white sheet of paper. The old women, noticing that she hadn't sat down yet, gently grasped her by the elbow and placed her behind and slightly to the left of someone. They were all placed so that they formed a sort of V that birds make when flying.

Clary mimicked everyone's position, and listened to her surroundings. She could hear whispers beyond the curtain, excited and anxious, ready for the show to begin. She could hear the breaths of the girls around her, and was glad that she was in the back, and not somewhere in the front, where it would be harder for her to copy. She hoped that everyone had to do the same thing, and that there wasn't any part choreography where everyone did separate moves. The room was dark, and the only light came from the tunnel that led back to the vanity room.

Suddenly, all the voices were quieted as someone spoke out loud, but based on the way they were speaking, even Clary could guess what was going on. The speaker was probably saying something like 'Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to our esteemed gypsy hall' or something of the sort. When he was done, there was a round of applause, and the curtains were drawn back. There was darkness surrounding them, so Clary wouldn't have been able to see the crowd of people sitting beyond the stage had it not been for her sight. Then, someone lit four massive torches, two at the front of the stage, and two in the back. Music began to play, but as to where it came from Clary didn't have to investigate, for the girls in front of her began to dance.

The girl right in front of her, dressed in pale yellow, raised her arms out to the side, without raising her head or body. Clary could rather feel her moving than see it, so she copied her movements as she twisted her arms this was and that. The girls pulled their arms back in, fisted at their sides, and took their left leg and stretched it out the left, when they had done so, they slowly lifted their bodies upward, keeping their head tilted towards the ground. They took their right foot, and tucked it under them, like a lotus position but only with one leg, and started doing fluid movements with their arms to the beat of drums. Clary found herself getting into it, she was following the music, and copying the girls around her. Yes, it was difficult, one because the girls were actually going fast, and because Clary noticed that while her hands were moving, the rest of her body should not be. Yet there was something about getting into something that made it easier to forget about the rest of the circumstances.

All of the girls changed position, bending their knees in front of them, put their hands as if they were praying and started moving them up and down, in a circle, and when they made a full rotation with them, they put both hands on to the floor on their right, their bodies twisted in the middle. Their left hand flew up and started making movements as well, and then their right hand joined them, and they did the whole praying, rotating hand thing until both hands were pressed unto the floor to their left.

The torched illuminating them, making the scene look more exotic, and appealing, though Clary had to admit, it was beautiful, the way each move fit into another. She was very aware of the stares of all the men on them. Though she was in the back, she was very noticeable, especially by people who were on the side of the place and had a better view of her. Her white hair flashed in the light of the flames, and as Clary continued to dance, she noticed sweat developing on her. This was actually tiring.

She was enjoying herself though. They had changed positions again, they were leaning on their right hand, left leg stretched out to the side, moving their left hand to the beat and making flowing movements.

Writer's POV: The author knows nothing of gypsy dances. For an idea of what Clary is doing, watch Come and Get It by selena gomez. Sorry for those of you who don't want to or prefer to not do it. Most of what she dances was influenced by those moves.

They had moved so that they kneeled on their knees, resting on her toes, her left arm bent at the elbow so that her palm faced her, her right arm bent perpendicular to it, and the girls abruptly stood up, stepped their right leg to the side, and raised both arms into the air, they turned slightly, as the beat of the drum increased in pace, and Clary found herself starting to shake her hips along with everyone else. They stepped their right leg forward, brought their arms down into praying position, and started to twist her arms and legs at the same time.

As Clary continued to dance, she took the advantage that she was supposed to look blankly at the crowd, as all the girls didn't exactly seem to be focusing on anything but dancing, so she surveyed the people in the room. The room was fairly large, big enough to house about a hundred people, yet the place was packed, so some people must have snuck in. The girls suddenly changed the way their V was pointing, previously it was so that the point of the V was facing the crowd, so that Clary who was at the end, was suddenly up front, the point now facing away from the crowd.

She could feel the stares of everyone as they gasped at the sight of this strange girl, who was new to the crowd, whose head jewelry caught the flames of the torches and made it shine unlike any of the other dancers in the group. Some men whistled, which made her skin crawl but ignored it, and others pointed up at her, holding liquor bottles and red faces. She didn't like her new position, and she was about to make herself ignore everything around her, making her senses take in the dance moves of the girls around her, when she thought she spotted a white head in the crowd in front of her.

As Clary moved her head to the side, following what the other girls did, she took that as a chance to scan the crowd for the white head, _Chris?! _ She wanted to get off that stage very much, her first feelings of 'Why not?' turning into 'Hell no.' She could feel her cheeks heat up when she realized her brother might see her dancing like this, and thanked the fact that the room was lit by fire, so you couldn't notice.

She could no longer see anything in the crowd, and decided to just wait until the dancing was over. It was easier to think of it that way, dance now, problems later.

Dance now, problems later.

Dance, now.

Problems, later.

Clary found herself repeating this in her head, as she brought her right leg up, bent it at the knee, and thrust her clasped arms down, doing the same with her left leg. They were doing a lot more work with their legs now, with cooperating moves from their arms.

Clary felt as if she was in another world.

She remembered dancing with Simon in clubs before, even with Jace at that Downworlder club, but that had been amongst many people, and if someone were to have told Clary even just an hour ago, that she was going to be dancing in front of a crowd of people, not within one, where nobody could judge you for how you dance, but in front of them, while they all watched, she would have scoffed, saying that she was much too shy for that type of thing. Was it Sebastian's influence in her blood?

She never noticed it before, but now she was in the very front of the group, the V shape pointing again towards the crowd, and she was at the very point. They were moving fast, fast enough that Clary could ignore the men trying to get closer to the stage, lust filled in their eyes as they sized her up, because she was trying so hard to follow the movements of the girls, especially since they were behind Clary now.

As they began to slow down, she surveyed the crowd again, this time finding someone she didn't want to see. Two men dressed in blue robes, entered the already crowded area, they weren't looking up at her though, they were searching the crowd too. Clary didn't know whether to keep dancing or to ram them while they were unsuspecting. She wasn't stupid, while she had been changing, she slipped her stele and seraph blade under her clothes. They were pretty tight, so she had pressed the weapons flat against her back, and slid the cloth over her. The lighting and movements allowed her to conceal the fact that it was hidden there, but it was pretty hard to bend into all these poses while a blade was poking at her.

The men were moving in the room, passing through people, sometimes even shoving them out of their way to get past. Clary traced a path towards where they were going, and saw a flash of white in the room before it disappeared. She was somewhat relieved, they were probably following Chris they hadn't seen her yet.

_As soon as I'm done with this, I'll follow the girls back then hide back in that storage room….._

Too late. One of the men in blue was staring right at her, though she did her best not to look back, as if this was completely normal, she was just a dancer, but obviously he could tell. He made his way through the crowd, and Clary could feel her nerves screaming at her to attack, run, do something.

He was making his way towards the front of the stage, getting some rude looks from the people who were already there. Clary was only about three meters from the edge, and that stage was only about three feet above the ground, so it would only take a step, up to reach her. She was grateful when the dancers changed positions, and suddenly she was in the center of a circle, dancing whilst the other girls created a barrier around her. Of course they only thought of it as routine, but she was thankful that it would create a hindrance for them.

The man stopped right in front of the stage, his gaze felt like it was burning a hole in Clary's face, the intensity too much.

The girls were moving again, and Clary could feel that this was the final move in the dance. However, they were changing back into the V shape that they had held up, Clary moving slowly back the front. As they finished, the girls ended the dance with a modified bow, their bodies to the side, their heads tilting towards the ground, their left arm extending to the crowd.

Clary realized too late that if she did that, the man would only have to reach up and grasp her and she was just about to pull back when she felt a hand encircle her wrist, and pull her down.

She struggled, and screamed, hoping that this man was just a mortal and not a warlock hoping that she wouldn't have to use her Shadowhunter skills, so that the people around her could notice and maybe help her, kick the guy out.

And someone was, there were two drunk looking men, who were yelling at the blue robed guy who was completely covered, his face and mouth and hands hidden to Clary. The man made a sort of signal, and suddenly the flamed from the torches were put out. The whole room was painted in darkness, screams from women sounded, and Clary blinked so that she her vision could immediately adjust to the sudden change of light.

The blue robed man was still holding her by the wrist, and Clary was just about to twist it so that she could get it free, and already had her right hand clenched so that she could give a blow to the stomach, when she felt her body go rigid, her whole self freezing up.

She couldn't move.

Her body, now having nothing to support it, tumbled to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut. The man grabbed her by the waist and flung her over his shoulder, her eyes seeing nothing but his back and the backs of his feet. She could feel her stele and seraph blade stretch against the fabric of her clothes, and the jewels that Ghayth had lent her jangled against her forehead, and for a second she was afraid that they would fall off.

The man walked through the crowd, stepping past people as if he kidnapped girls from stages in total darkness every day. Clary had already assessed that this man was a warlock, it was how all the lights went out, though she didn't see any of the magic he performed to do it, and how she had been incapable of moving, which made her wonder whether the other man who entered with him was also a warlock.

She tried to move, willing her limbs to obey her, but she couldn't even make her mouth open, and she found herself only able to blink her eyes. She could feel the man, warlock, approaching the exit, where strangely, no one was inhibiting. Clary could feel people trying to ignite the torches again, or to find new ones. She could see small flickers of flame try to appear in the dark, probably lighters that men had with them but the light went off as soon as it showed life. The warlock was preventing anyone from making light.

They were out of the building and into the lantern lighted streets, which were empty and devoid of any people. They moved down the streets, and Clary tried to keep track of where they were going. The warlock was not speaking to her, nor was he harming her in anyway. He took her into house that was in an empty part of the neighborhood, the place looked abandoned, unused, as if there weren't many residents living in this part of the village.

The warlock walked up some creaky looking wooden steps, onto an old wooden porch. The front door of the house, which was the only one that had its appearance in what seemed like the whole village, had scratch marks, giving it an ominous feeling. As the warlock adjusted her on his shoulder, making a pattern of noises by coordinating knocks and scratched on the door, Clary caught sight of the second blue robed man walking towards them from down the street. His head was also hidden, hands as well, and seemed to walk with purpose. He was a ways down the street, and might get here in a minute or two. Clary felt a strange twist in her stomach that didn't come from being pressed into this guy's shoulder bone.

When his pattern of knocks and scratched made, Clary made sure to memorize it, for future purposes. The fact that he wasn't even trying to hide it from her only meant that he knew she wasn't going to escape.

_Knock knock scratch knock scratch knock knock scratch scratch scratch knock scratch._

She couldn't see who had opened the door, or if it had opened on its own, but the door knob clicked and they were inside. The house had absolutely nothing decorating its interior. There was no furniture, chairs, cloths, anything. The warlock passed boarded up windows and glass covered floors, and opened a door that had stairs leading down into a basement.

As they descended, Clary could hear the pattern of knocks and scratched being done again on the door.

_Knock knock scratch knock scratch knock knock scratch scratch scratch knock scratch._

When the stairs ended, the warlock put her on the ground against a cold, wet wall, tilting her head with one gloved hand so that she could look up at him.

"ينظرون إليك، كثيرا لابنة الحب الكبير. الآن سوف تدفع ثمن الأكاذيب الوقحة والدك. ربما أعطي تسمح الرجال هنا لديهم استخدام لكم، بعد أفعل، بطبيعة الحال. في الواقع، لماذا لا يمكننا الحصول على بعض المتعة في الوقت الراهن؟ قبل وصول الجميع ..." He had pulled his hood down, and his face showed a malevolent grin, one that Clary knew that it didn't matter if she didn't understand what he said, this was not going to end well for her.

All of sudden more steps came down the stairs, making the warlocks grin disappear, as something had just been ruined for him.

Like he wasn't expecting someone to be here yet.

The other blue hooded guy had his face tilted down, so that even though he was covered, you could not see his eyes. The warlock began to question him, saying things in Arabic that no doubt asked the other man why he was here. The new guy simply walked slowly, calmly to the warlock, and without warning, so fast that Clary's eyes barely kept track with the movement, especially since she couldn't move to see better, the man stabbed the warlock in the heart.

He fell with a thud, dead before he could touch the ground, the blade deeply embedded into his chest, and when the other figure bent down to pull it out, Clary could feel the magic that was done on her collapse, and she immediately stood up. The figure still had his back to her, examining the fallen body. And Clary quickly walked up to him, and snatched back his hood.

She knew it.

"Chris, if you were going to kill him anyway, why didn't you do so on the street? You could've taken him, he was distracted with me anyway."

Chris, or Sebastian, considering that he was fighting, shrugged and said, "Can't I have a little fun, besides, now when all the other guys get here, we can catch them when they're unsuspecting."

She rolled her eyes, still thinking that it was unnecessary to have her go through the extra panic. Sebastian was staring at her, his gaze roaming her without embarrassment, yet she felt completely exposed.

"Nice dancing, by the way," He grinned devilishly, as if seeing his sister gypsy dance was a dream come true (it probably was).

She wanted off of this topic. "How did you find me? And where's Ghayth? Did he find you?"

His eyes focused back to the topic at hand, his face getting an expression of 'oh you know, it was nothing'

"Little runt? Calls you white angel? Yeah, I met him, he pulled me into the building just in time to see your 'performance' begin. And by the way," he stopped when she shot him a menacing glare, preventing him from saying anything about her dance, "Anyway, while I was there, I saw the two warlocks enter the place. They had parted ways, one going towards you, and the other going to another door that led to this vanity room where the dancers get changed. I followed that one and killed him, disposing the corpse, stole his clothes and got out just in time to see you being taken like the damsel in distress that you were."

"And Ghayth?" she said, preferring to not go into his last comment.

"He went to help the girls get backstage after the lights went out, some of the drunks were climbing up and going after them." He said this in a boring tone, as if that didn't matter to him.

Clary touched the jewels on her forehead, silently thinking _so the other was a warlock…._

She wanted to leave. She didn't know why, but she was getting a bad feeling in her stomach, just like when she was being held by that warlock, and at the time, she had thought it was because she saw Chris in disguise coming towards her, but now she wasn't so sure.

"Can we leave? I'm all for getting the rest of the guys, but their only advantage was the warlocks, who were actually pretty easy to get rid of, so we wasted our breath running away in the first place. Guess they weren't so tough after all." She was feeling strange, she had this feeling like something was going to happen, like something was racing at her, but she didn't know what.

"Are you alright, you look nervous," He stepped close to her, his voice showing some genuine curiosity as to what was going on with her. Clary couldn't see it, but he was actually concerned.

She shook her head, trying to get rid of this sudden feeling. "I'm just a bit shaken, a lot happened tonight after all, and I really do think it's better to go. Now."

She took a few steps towards the stairs, and turned back to see if Chris was following. He looked at her, taking her in, not like last time, where he was staring at her, but now he was staring _through_ her, trying to see what was with the abrupt incentive on leaving.

"I guess we can go, now that those guys are gone, there's not really much to worry for. But don't you want to return those first?" He asked.

She replied quickly, "It's fine, they have loads of outfits, can we leave now?" Her sense of panic was increasing, she could feel her breath rate going faster, feel her pulse in her temple throba fast pace. What was going on? What was causing this?

Chris walked to her in to quick strides, still wearing the blue outfit, he pulled of the gloves and placed his hand on her forehead, "Clary what's going on? You're breathing quickly and your temperature is rapidly increasing."

"Chris I just want to go HOME!" Clary yelled.

Chris stared at her, and Clary realized that this was the first time she called the house they lived in home. This was barely going to be her third evening spent with him, yet she already called it home. On one hand, she could argue that it was because of the circumstances that made her say home, she wasn't really thinking, but where else was home?

For a moment, she forgot about the raging panic that seemed to come from nothing. As she stared back at Chris's astonished face, black eyes staring at mirror images of another, and his expression turned into a smile. A real heartwarming smile, one that looked as if he was happy to finally have an excuse to use it. Like he finally won something that he'd been working hard for.

He tugged at the hair that had been in front of her face, and pulled all of it back, parting her hair in the middle and putting it behind her ears. When he was done, he placed his warm, hot hand on her also burning cheeks, and said, "If that's what you want, Clary."

She nodded. It was what she wanted.

Slowly, he placed his hand in hers, questionably touching it, before grasping it. Clary waited a few seconds, before returning his grasp. Chris looked like a happy guy, and Clary felt like she should say something, tell him that this was only because she felt scared, because she still felt weak in the legs (though she didn't) because she didn't want him to lose that happy look in his eye. But she didn't, she let him believe whatever it was that was going on in his mind, though she didn't know whether or not it was for the better, or worse.

Together they climbed the stairs, and made their way to the door in which they came in from. Before they did though, Chris gave Clary a side look and asked, "By the way, how did you know it was me back there and not someone from the gang?"

Clary answered easily, "I saw you earlier, following us, at first I thought it was one of them, but then I figured, why would they be behind us, if the warlocks obviously got me under control, and there's still one more person to catch. That's when I figured it was you. Oh, also because I recognize the way you walk, call it something I learned from observing you with my senses." She smirked, glad she knew something about Chris.

"You know me so well" he mocked, "You know, at first I didn't believe it was you back on the stage, I thought 'now that girl is much too beautiful and talented to be _my sister_' and then when you failed to dance a move correctly I thought 'Nevermind, it's her'"

Clary playfully punched him in the arm, "I did not fail, I was pretty good for someone who never danced like that before, no, I was amazing, no, I was glamorous! I, I-"

"You were something I've never seen before!" Chris laughed, but the way he said made it sound like he was making fun of her.

Clary punched him again, this time harder, "Oh, yeah you try dancing like that when you don't even know the moves. I'd like to see that."

Chris rubbed his arm, "Of course you would love to see that, because I would be beyond 'glamorous' doing it. But if someone were to tell me to do that, I'd sock them in the jaw before I agree."

"You would not be glamorous, you'd be hideous, I don't think I'd be able to watch you without laughing my ass off!"

"At least it would be something to watch, not like you're moves." Chris retorted.

"Hey! I did my best!" Clary suddenly didn't feel like holding his hand anymore. She tried to tug it loose, but Chris had an iron grip. She looked at him accusingly, but h only watched her with placid eyes.

He pulled her hand to his chest, making her move towards him, and he placed his other hand on her cheek again, and Clary fought the urge to shake his hand off like a fly. His thumb carefully smoothed her jaw, and Clary felt herself unwillingly relax. He looked at their entwined hands, and said, "I was kidding, you actually looked, beautiful, like an angel up there. Everyone was looking at you."

His eyes met hers, and his voice softened, "And I felt jealous because they were all staring at you."

Clary could feel her cheeks heat up, but that had nothing to do with her high temperature. Chris leaned down, so that their faces were right in front of each other, "This morning, when you told me that you just wanted me to be your brother, I honestly considered it." He let go of her hand, and reached up to gran her other cheek.

"But after seeing you today, I realize I might not be able to do that." He stared at her, her eyes, her nose, her forehead, her jaw, her lips. Clary felt mesmerized, unable to move. She didn't know what to do, that morning, what she had said was what she thought was true, she had someone to love and that was Jace, but was that even possible for her anymore? She was completely different, and even if someday she would get back to Jace, would she be back to the way she was?

"Clary" Chris's eyes were filled of her, it wasn't lust, he didn't want _all_ of her right now, but he wanted her.

He wanted her to want him.

Normally, she would feel disgust, a sort of repelling sense, that he was a demon, and that was wrong. But she was a demon now too, technically, so did that cancel out the disgust?

Clary found it a miracle she was even able to think in this situation.

Chris looked at her lips, and then her eyes, "Just one, one kiss. If you don't like it, I'll stop and we can go home."

There was a plead in his voice, something that begged her to accept him, and Clary found herself nodding, feeling her heart rate going faster, she could feel a twist in her stomach again, and her cheeks were burning.

Chris looked like a man dying of thirst. He tilted his head to the side, leaning in slowly, savoring each second. Their lips barely brushed when Clary felt an enormous pain in her chest and wrist.

She screamed.

Chris instantaneously let her go, thinking it was his fault, but it wasn't. Clary dropped to her knees, one hand, the wrist that hurt, that felt like it was exploding, like something was stinging her, piercing her, clutched at her chest where her heart was, the other hand grasping her wrist.

Clary could feel her chest throb, and the pain felt like her heart was trying to pound itself out, rip its way out of her. The agony was too much, she fell onto her side, Chris, who must have noticed something was going on, was trying to talk to her through her screams of pain. He kneeled next to her form, which had curled into fetal position, and tried to touch her shoulder, but when his hand came into contact with her, he felt a jolt so huge it was like electricity had flown through Clary to shock him.

His hand throbbed, and he didn't touch Clary again, but he still tried to get through to her, but to no avail. Clary twitched on the ground, her thoughts consisting of _What's happening to me!? Make it stop, Make it stop! MAKE IT STOP! _

She felt like hell itself was coming out through her, and all she could do was scream and scream, Chris had made several more attempts to touch her, but each time provided the same result.

All they could do was wait until it was done, if it was done. But after a few minutes, Clary could feel the pain and agony slow, turning into very painful throbs, and a minute later, she could only feel the sting in her wrist. She hadn't been aware of it, but she had been crying, tears running in rivulets down her cheeks.

Soon, she sat up, still clutching at her wrist and chest, and Chris found it safe to grab her. He put her in his lap, and she leaned against him, him telling her it was okay, to just breathe and tell him when it was all better.

She did as he said, breathing in and out, in and out, until everything was okay. She wiped at her cheeks, and was about to climb off of Chris, but he put his arms around her, not letting her go.

"What was that?" he asked softly.

"I don't know." Her voice was hoarse, her throat feeling raw from screaming.

"Let's go home," Placing his hand under her knees, he carried her bridal style to the door, and began to walk through the empty village to their house. Clary was in shock, though the pain was gone, she could still feel her heart pounding, as if it was threatening to come out again.

Chris mainly took streets with poor lighting, taking to the shadows, but as they passed under a lantern, Clary saw something on her wrist that caught her attention.

Removing her hand, she gasped, making Chris look as well. He paused, staring at her wrist, and then took off in a run towards their house.

The clock shaped rune on Clary's wrist had moved forwards, and in the place between where the twelve and one would be, the clock hand had traced what looked like a tattoo using Clary's black blood.

**Clary: Pandora Hearts reference? You sure you shouldn't put this under crossover fanfics?**

**Lacie: Nah, I'm not using any of their characters, besides the tattoo isn't like P.H**

**Chris: What's P.H?**

**Lacie and Clary: Look it up**

**Lacie: Anyways, again, I'm sorry, I guess I got a little carried away, and forgot that I have a story to update. I hope this chapter is enough for you guys, because I'm the type of person who tries to make everybody happy.**

**Chris: you almost made me happy.**

**Clary: You put me in pain.**

**Lacie: well…..mostly everyone. Anyways, that one part that the warlock says, where its in arabic, it basicalle says that look at her now, Valentines daughter, blah blah, he's gonna let his men use her, and he will too, but I put it in google translate, and anyone who uses it knows that sometimes google messes up so forgive me if thats not what it says**

**Clary: Please follow, favorite, and most importantly, review! They inspire her! To update sooner!**

**Lacie: See you next chapter!**


	8. A golden light on the map

**Lacie: *crycrysobsobsobcrycry* AHHHH!*puts face in pillow and wants to die*D'X**

**Clary: What's wrong?! Did someone die?**

**Chris: I knew it, you're planning on killing someone in this chapter aren't you? Who is it? WHO? *thinks: let it be jace, let it be jace***

**Clary: WAH! That's not true! It can't be! What's going on?!**

**Lacie: *Muffle talks into pillow* T-T**

**Chris: Uh-huh, okay**

**Clary: What did she say?**

**Chris: No clue *shrugs***

**Lacie: *recovered* I'll just explain my mood till the end, because I don't like making these intros long. Anyway, no I'm not planning on killing anyone, sorry for Chris making you think that. I don't know if I will, but it seems like every good story kills someone so ehh. Thank you so much everyone who reviewed and who been reading so far. I want to thank everyone who has reviewed as Guest because usually I like to reply to every single review I get. (I you reviewed and I did not reply back please feel free to PM me) I can't reply to Guest so I'll say thanks to them here! Did you like the last chapter?**

**Chris: I enjoyed it, very much. You must be a fan of Selena Gomez**

**Clary: Are you only saying you enjoyed it because of my dancing?**

**Lacie: Yes I do like Selena, but I'm not a hardcore fan, neither do I like all of her songs, but its cause I had just watched the 'Come and Get it' video, and that's pretty much what inspired me to make that chapter that way.**

**Clary: Don't make me dance ever again.**

**Chris: Lacie-Abyss does not own the Mortal Instruments or any of its characters.**

**Lacie: I do own Chris and white haired, gypsy dancing Clary!**

**Enjoy!**

**Jace POV**

He knew he should have felt tired, and in he could feel it deep down in his Shadowhunter bones, but Jace could not keep still.

After they had met up at Taki's, Simon left, saying that he had to meet up with his band, his excuse being that he didn't want to give them a reason to worry. Jace had argued with him, saying that isn't Clary more important than his stupid band that can't even write good songs.

"And what am I supposed to do?" Simon had retorted, "Just sit around and mope in hopes that we'll get a sign of Clary? I don't know about you, but doing something that's normal for me like practicing with my band calms me down, and gives me a better chance to think."

Jace never thought he'd see the day when Simon actually looked threatening to him, and was left at a loss for words, especially since Simon left before he had a chance to say anything back. In a way, he was right. What was he doing? Just laying around here, it wasn't like he was restricted anymore due to the heavenly fire anymore, the silent brothers had cleared him up the other day, saying that it had completely left his system. Simon was right, Isabelle was right, he could even feel like Alec could have done a better job than him had he been in his position. His parabatai had been giving him strange looks recently, like he was just waiting for Jace to stop his act and do something.

When they had gone back to the Institute, they found Maryse and Jocelyn in the library. They were at Hodge's old desk, the two kneeling angels holding up the thing looked especially in pain today, discussing something over what appeared to be a huge map of the world. The day had darkened a while ago, and lights were turned on around the library, both witchlight and regular candles, along with actual lamps.

Maryse had instantly heard them enter through the door, looking up from the desk at them, and Jocelyn had said, "Hello Isabelle, Alec, Jace," without even glancing at them. Thought it was obvious that she hadn't been in the Shadowhunter business in years, Jocelyn was still excellent at what they do. When Jace looked at her, he was instantly reminded of Clary, there was no helping it, the two looked exactly alike, though Clary had some small things about her features that resembled more closely to Valentine, at first glance, you'd think they were the same person from different time periods.

"Where have you three been?" Maryse asked them, gesturing them to come towards them, "I was looking for you."

"Looking for us? What for?" Alec asked. Maryse hardly ever asked for their help in times like these, especially not Jace or Isabelle, because they weren't eighteen yet.

"We're composing a map, a possible series of places where Clary could be," Jocelyn answered them, "Jace, you've already told us that you think Jonathan might have taken Clary into one of those houses that you've been in before, right?"

Jace nodded.

Though she wasn't looking at him, eyes glued onto the old yellowing paper, she said, "How do they work? Were you able to control the location of where they would pop up, or does the house tend to move on its own to influential places, historical marks, Shadowhunter hangouts, anything?"

"I'm not sure, I think Seb- Jonathan," Jace switched from Sebastian to Jonathan, Clary had already explained to him before as to how her mother might never be able to refer to her son as anything but Jonathan, "was able to control the previous house, but chances are this next house he may not be able to."

"What makes you say that?" Isabelle stepped in, she was standing next to her mother, tracing her finger across the rough paper.

"I don't remember very well, but from the time when I was being controlled by him, Jonathan said something about him having another house, but he preferred this one because it was more to his advantage, meaning that he could use it more to his liking. Maybe even getting in and out of it is harder." As he spoke, this made sense. He remembered Clary's explanation on how Sebastian was devastated when she had stopped them from ever being able to use that other house ever again.

Jocelyn only slightly nodded, taking in what he said, "Would you guess it's safe to assume that they won't be returning to places they've already been to?"

"I'm really not sure, but just in case," Jace stood next to Jocelyn, grasped one of the pencils that were lying about, and circle all of the locations that he had been with Sebastian during his imprisonment with him. Jocelyn's left hand was clenched, and looked as if she was holding onto something. Catching his curious gaze, Jocelyn opened her hand and showed him a small plush cat toy. It had a zipper on its back where you would keep….

"It's a coin pouch. A lot of things in our house were destroyed from when Valentine first sent a demon after me, but this was something that they must've missed. Clary hasn't used it in a long time, but it was something she cared for very much when she was little." Jocelyn had a nostalgic look in her eye, and even Jace could see little Clary, skipping around with her little coin pouch, her red hair probably in a braid, her smile lighting up everything.

Isabelle had been watching them and spoke up, "Is that so that you can find her?"

Jocelyn shook her head, the face of a protective mother claiming her features, "I've tried item after item, Jonathan has made it so that there is no trace of her."

"So then, why do you still, oh." Alec stopped his sentence. Isabelle looked up at Jace to see if he understood, and he looked at her, trying to mentally give her the explanation. Jocelyn wasn't using the toy to find her, it was to keep herself together while she tried to find her daughter.

Maryse cleared her throat, interrupting the silence that had settled on all of them, "Alec could you be a dear and make some tea please?" Alec nodded and exited the library.

The four of them continued to stare at the map, and first Jace was rather uncomfortable, he knew that Jocelyn didn't really like him, but it seemed like these past few days had made them have a silent agreement. _We can argue about I'm not good enough for your daughter as soon as we get her back. _Jace would have thought that he's even feel even more anxious being around her, considering that she and her daughter were very alike, but it was the other way around. He felt secure even, like the fact that they were both willing to do anything to get Clary back strengthened them. He could feel her motherly affection, something that Jace can sometimes see traces of in Maryse, practically oozing out of her. In a strange way, Jace yearned for that affection, according to what he had heard, his mother had slit her wrists and killed herself, leaving her unborn child do die along with her.

It was strange to admit that though Valentine was the cause of all of this, he had been the one who had saved him from the womb.

That was the only thing he would ever be grateful of him for.

"Jocelyn," Maryse looked up at her from across the table, her hair flowing around her, "By any chance, did you ever place a tracking rune on Clary when she was young?"

Jocelyn met Maryse' stare, black on green, "You mean one similar to the ones Valentine placed on the circle?"

With one eyebrow raised, Maryse responded, "You knew?"

"Not back then, just recently during the time I was held captured by him, he often spoke to me, thinking I was asleep and couldn't hear him." Jocelyn's eye softened, as if she were seeing something not in front of them, "He told me everything."

Maryse nodded.

"Wait, what do you mean by tracking rune that Valentine used on you guys? You too mom?" Isabelle asked, her voice full of unbelief mixed with curiosity.

"Back when we were a part of the Circle," Jocelyn responded, "Valentine placed tracking runes on the members."

"It was because of that in which Valentine was able to locate us at all times. He would have a map similar to this one, and whenever he wanted to know where we were, he would look at the map and a small gold dot would appear to show our location. My mark is hidden on my head, so it's hard to find and notice." Maryse looked up at Jace with an apologetic expression, something he hardly ever saw on her, "There's one on you, it's how I knew that you were alive. I stood by this map watching as your presence appeared all around the world in the form of a gold dot."

Jace gave her a warm grin, which she returned. He knew that he should feel upset, that he had a rune on him that meant Maryse could track him anytime she wanted, but instead he felt comforted, to know that she cared for him and searched for him in a time when everyone thought he had gone over to the dark side.

Maryse turned her gaze back towards Jocelyn, "You didn't answer my question. Does Clary have one?"

"Do I have one?" Isabelle asked very seriously. Jace couldn't help but smirk.

Both women ignored her, as Jocelyn sighed and stood up straight from where she was leaning over the table, "Yes, yes I did. It was a long time ago, Clary was only about a month old, and at that time I was still scared out of my wits, thinking that my husband was after me, coming to take me and learn about the daughter I never told him about. I didn't want anything to happen to Clary, not after what he did to my first child."

She looked at her hands, the hands that protected Clary when she was too young to protect herself. "I already tried it though, Jonathan must have placed some sort of barrier around her, so that the rune can't announce where she is."

"In that case, something powerful must urge through that barrier in order for it to work." Maryse nodded, her eyes focused on the map, looking at the places where Jace marked.

The sound of a door opening penetrated all of their thinking, as Alec came with a rolling cart, pushing a tea kettle, and five porcelain cups on top of it. "I hope you all like Chamomile, cause that's the only thing I found." His parabatai wasn't known for making anything, so Jace was ready for the worst. He walked away from the table, towards Alec.

"You look like you should be in a hotel wearing a black vest and a cup for tips." Jace joked. Indeed, Alec looked funny, his tall form pushing the small cart along with the fine tableware.

Alec scowled at him, in which Jace replied, "Now, now, no scowling. Here," He reached in his pocket for some spare change, "I hope this is enough to make you happy, you should really get rid of that scowl, it'll boost up your tips."

Alec was in the middle of pouring tea into the cups, and when Jace reached for his, he 'accidentally' dropped some on his outstretched hand. "Ow!" Jace said, sucking on his burnt finger.

"My apologies, young simpleton." As he rolled the cart towards his mother, he whispered, "Well somebody's feeling better."

Jace rolled his eyes, and followed him. This time he took his cup without any burns. As he sat in one of the arm chairs that surrounded the table, he took a small sip of the boiling tea. Not bad.

"Thank you Alec, the tea is delicious. Should help clear our heads." Maryse praised him, and Jace could see Alec smile to himself. His parabatai was such a momma's boy. He saw Isabelle smirk at him too, as she sat lopsided at one of the chairs as well, her back against one of the arms while her long legs dangled across the other, holding her cup of tea close to her abdomen.

They had all sat down except for Jocelyn, whose cup of tea was sitting on the desk, untouched.

"Jocelyn, please, sit down. Take a break for five minutes. I know you're anxious, believe me I know what you're going through, but just standing there won't accomplish anything." Maryse motioned towards one of the many empty chairs around them, inclining her to sit.

"I can rest later, when I know my daughter is safe. Don't you see Maryse I can't sit still sipping tea when I know my daughter is out there and I'm not doing anything about it." Jocelyn answered, her tone harsh.

"Look, I know you feel like there's something you have to do, but you don't know what that is yet. This whole thing has taken its toll on you and if you don't sit down and rest you'll be even more unable to achieve anything." Maryse's voice had become harsh as well, cold, yet understanding. She could see what Jocelyn was dealing with, and in a strange way, everyone else could too. Jocelyn had been through much more than all of them could recognize, alone she left her people, left everything she ever knew, to raise a child in world of people was trained to protect from demons they couldn't see. She went days under a coma like state under the hold of her crazy husband, not knowing whether or not her daughter was okay, the world she had run away from and tried to hide from her coming back at her in full force. Just when she thought she was staring to make the right choices by marrying the man she should have after all this time, he gets attacked by her son, and have had to postpone her marriage for countless of reasons. Now, her daughter was gone, again, taken by her son, the monster that she had created thanks to Valentine.

It was strange how though Valentine had been dead for months, his actions were still affecting them now.

"Maryse I know you're worried for me, but I have to keep looking, I have to keep doing _something _because if I don't I feel like I'll explode!" Jocelyn's face was grim, her jaw clenched, and her forehead creased.

"Jocelyn, we understand your reasons-" Maryse tried to reason with her but Jocelyn shook her head, yelling, "No you don't understand! At least you knew if Jace was alive, but now, I don't even know that!"

Jace thought back to his conversation with Simon at Taki's, and sat straight in his armchair.

"Jocelyn," she looked up at him with eyes that held unshed tears. Jace could see the bags that had formed over the last couple of days.

Jace spoke in a meaningful way, hard enough so that he could be taken as an adult and not as her daughter's rebel boyfriend, yet not too hard so that he was lecturing her, "Look, you're worried about Clary because you're afraid that she can't defend herself, or because you think about everything that could happen to her. But that's not the case, Clary's not the little unaware girl she was months ago, she's a trained Shadowhunter, and she knows what she's doing. You spent her whole life trying to hide it all from her, and that may have set her back, but you shouldn't worry so much about her not being able to handle things. I doubt she can't take care of herself. So don't over-concern yourself, I'm positive that Clary will be okay." As he spoke, Jace realized that he wasn't just trying to convince Jocelyn, but he was trying to convince himself. His Clary could handle anything, "If Clary can handle a Ravener demon while she still had no clue about the Shadowhunter world, she can deal with what's going on now."

Jocelyn's face had been facing the map midway Jace's talk, her hair blocking the view of her expression as she spoke, "I know she can handle herself, I just, I just, I need to find her, before the Clave does."

The Clave. Of course, they wanted to kill or capture Clary, just as they wanted to do so with Jace.

Alex spoke up, "Ms. Fray, I know you're worried, but you have to take it easy on yourself, Clary would hate than in trying to help her, you were hurting yourself." Alec's voice was smooth, caring, much different from what Maryse and Jace had done, and Jocelyn's form seemed to have relaxed, just a bit, but it was still rigid.

She pulled an armchair close to the table, and sat in it with her cup in her hands. She leaned back into the soft leather, but her eyes never left the map. It was a start. Jace saw Maryse give Alec a grateful smile.

"So, where were you three again?" Maryse said as she sipped her tea.

"We went to meet up with Simon." Izzy answered, swinging her legs around.

"How is Simon?" Jocelyn asked. She had cared for Simon ever since Clary had met him, and Jace could feel that Jocelyn felt somewhat responsible for him as well.

"He's, doing what he can." Izzy said, "He's searched the whole city, and by whole, I mean _whole._" When Jocelyn looked at her funny, she explained, "Ever since I called him three days ago, he's been using his vampire senses and stuff to look everywhere."

"So the daylighter is at work too, good." Maryse stated, and Izzy froze up. Jace could tell that Izzy had a thing for Simon, so when her mom just referred to him as such it might make her mad.

"He's holding up just fine." Izzy claimed, though she had returned to her slouched position.

"What did you all talk about?" Jocelyn asked.

Jace, Alec and Isabelle exchanged looks, and they all nodded. The two older women looked at them all with inquisitive glances.

"Well, you see," Alec explained everything for them, because he could make it short and simple. He explained their theory of how Simon had noticed Clary acting strange about a week before she disappeared, about how when she left with Jonathan, she said something about accepting his offer. Overall, they explained how they think Clary willingly left with her brother.

Jocelyn sat through the brief story with unbelief written over her face, and when Alec finished, she looked at them all with a grim expression, "I'm sure you all already know, but not one word of this to anyone from the Clave. They already suspect of Clary's cooperation with Jonathan, they don't anymore proof of it."

"No!" Jocelyn argued, "Clary couldn't have agreed to leave, she couldn't!"

"She could if she was being threatened with something, namely us." Jace stated firmly.

"But, no, it can't, it can't, I shouldn't have let her leave the house! I-" Jocelyn stopped abruptly, eyes focused on something on the map.

"Jocelyn?" Maryse asked, worry tinged in her voice, "Are you alright?"

She stood up and walked over to the red haired women, and hesitantly, placed her hand on her shoulder, "I know this is hard to understand but-" Maryse stopped as well, her head giving the map a double take. "What?"

Jace, Alec and Izzy stood up at the same time, suddenly sensing something was amiss. They all stared as a golden dot appeared brightly in an area where Saudi Arabia was at, watching as it slowly started to fade.

"Clary…," Isabelle sounded.

"Something she did made the barrier around the tracking rune break down for a while." Maryse said. Though the dot was gone, they all still had their eyes on the spot where they saw it.

"Clary, that's where you are…" Jocelyn sounded as if she was about to break down.

"For now at least," Maryse quickly said, she was the first to break out of their stupefied moment, and snapped at Alec, "Alec, go to my office and get my contact folder, I have to look for the nearest Institute there." Maryse walked to the phone that was at the end of the desk and was shuffling through papers, Alec dashed out of the room.

"My Arabic is rough but it'll have to do." Maryse spoke to herself.

Isabelle grabbed a pencil, and quickly before her mind forgot, circled the little area where the dot had been, "She was around the northern part of Saudi Arabia, very close to the border of Iraq."

Jace and Isabelle stood where they were, while Jocelyn and Maryse looked through papers and listed reason as to why they would be calling an Institute all the way across the world so that they Clave wouldn't grow suspicious. Alec fluttered here and there, getting information for his mother.

"What I want to know," Isabelle said to Jace, "Is what Clary did to make break the barrier that hid her from us."

Jace agreed. Then again, sometimes his Clary was just amazing.

**Lacie: Sorry it's so short, I just wanted to update sooner. About the whole, 'I update every blahblah' yeah , I'm just going to update whenever I can.**

**Clary: Wait a second, I'm not in this chapter?**

**Chris: Not everything revolves around you Clary.**

**Lacie: You're in the next chapter, I just thought we'd get quick look at the gang.**

**Chris: So wait, Clary didn't do anything to break the barrier….**

**Lacie: they don't know that**

**Clary: wait, it was that weird heart attack I had wasn't it.**

**Lacie: You're right, but more shall be revealed in the next chapter, which I will commence as soon as I update. And as for why I was sad, it was because I just finished my anime/manga that I had been obsessing over for a week, so when I was finished I felt like I had nothing to do with my life anymore. Anyone else feel that way?  
Clary: YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW**

**Chris: You guys are too emotionally attached to thing that don't exist.**

**Lacie: you don't exist**

**Clary/Chris: DON'T GO THERE**

**Lacie: Sorry sorry, anyway my viewers, I really loved all of your reviews, and I take them very seriously, and remember, if you want to chat with me, feel free to pest me about anything.**

**Clary: Please review and hopefully you enjoyed the chapter!**


	9. Sending things through the cupboards

**Lacie: I'm back! Did you miss me?**

**Clary: That depends…..**

**Lacie: Yes you are in the chapter.**

**Clary: Then yes, welcome back.**

**Chris: So anything exciting going to happen here?**

**Lacie: That's depends on how I go with it. Remember I have no idea how this story will end, so I'm winging it.**

**Clary: I GO BACK HOME**

**Lacie: I fix my 'n' button**

**Chris: I conquer the world AND mars**

**Clary: This look goes to both of you 0.o**

**Lacie: My little brother smashed his fists onto my laptop's keyboard and now I have to press really hard onto my 'n' button cause its jammed. So if you see a word that's missing an 'n' it's because I didn't otice.**

**Chris: Umm… Your word up there….**

**Lacie: *irritated* I see it :[. Anyways, thank you to all of my beloved viewers, for you are all now a part of my heart, my crunched, filled to the max, yet ready for more, strange and stitched up heart.**

**Chris: what**

**Lacie: My attempt at being loving. Do the disclaimer before I decide to not type anymore**

**Chris: Lacie-Abyss does not own the Mortal Instruments or any of its characters.**

**Lacie: Cause if I did, I wouldn't be here.**

**Enjoy!**

**PREVIOUSLY…ON AVATAR… Just kidding. I don't own that either.**

**Clary POV (the following occurs 4 days after the night in Saudi Arabia and the gangs discovery of Clary being there)**

Clary was a nervous wreck.

It was ten minutes before her 'episode' was about to happen, and she couldn't sit still. Chris still wasn't back from wherever he had left, because Clary refused to leave the house after what had occurred, and what they had found out.

As soon as they had gotten home, Chris checked Clary's wrist in every way possible. He made her sit on the island in their kitchen, holding out her wrist so that he could inspect it. The rune had moved. The clock hand moving one tick forward, and in its wake a tattoo of swirls left behind, though Clary couldn't tell what it was just yet.

"How did it feel?" Chris interrogated her, "describe everything."

He asked this and more, did she feel the clock hand moving, why did her chest ache if her rune was on her wrist, was that blood the tattoo was made with, why didn't she tell him this, and on and on and on.

No, she didn't feel the clock hand moving, she felt an enormous pain stinging her as if an actual needle was being traced on her skin. She didn't know why her chest felt like it was ripping from the inside out, she suspected it was from her black blood.

That's why she had black blood, Chris had explained to her, after his anger session on how she hid this from him, that the black blood was to trace the tattoo onto her rune.

"The black blood probably holds the qualities that make you like me, and as the rue wears off, the blood is expelled onto the rune." Chris had only been able to determine this the day before, when he had sat and watched next to her, trying to comfort her through her episode, yet watching as her rune moved again. He described it as the hand slowly moving, etching out the tattoo as new shiny blood appeared and sunk onto her skin.

As for why this happened, they both easily found an answer to it. An entire day had to pass before the hand moved again, twenty four hours, and it would occur at the same time as when Clary had originally drawn the rune on her wrist in Chicago.

She didn't want to go anywhere, lest she lose track of the time and have her pain moment in the middle of a street or something, so she hadn't stepped foot outside at all. She entertained herself the first two days looking around the house, discovering a cool secret door behind her dresser that led to room with a small window on the ceiling, but empty. She found that Chris actually owned an iPad (she wasn't snooping in his room, nope, she wasn't. She was walking by and her elbow hit the door and turned the knob and she tripped inside) but it didn't have Wifi until he put in the password for it, but it did have some already downloaded apps, which she has gone through. Those two days had been alright, but yesterday she had just sat on the couch and watched movies with Chris, and today he announced that he had some business to do.

"Where are we anyway?" Clary had asked him about five hours ago, turning her neck around so that she could see behind the couch where he was placing his hand on the wall to make the front door appear.

"Russia," he had said, wrapping a scarf around his neck. He had put on some thick gloves that you could remove the material so that your fingers could stick out, and was wearing black snow pants and a wooly black jacket. It was a strange sight to see him like that, all bundled up. But when he had opened the door and a gust of freezing air and snow flurries breezed in, Clary recoiled and hugged her arms, sinking into the couch to protect herself from the cold.

"It's freezing! What business is so important that you have to come here for? I thought you weren't going to be doing stuff like this anymore?" Clary barely peeped at him from over the edge of the couch doing her best to stay warm.

"It's not anything you may be thinking of, don't worry." He had already stepped out the door and was about to close it when he said, "It'll be alright, I'll be back before it happens." He said some other things too but that's when the wind picked up in mother Russia and Clary practically curled into a little ball and waited until she heard the door close shut.

But that had been hours ago, and now Clary paced back and forth from the kitchen to the living room. She couldn't sit, she couldn't stand, she felt reckless, the all too familiar panic was starting to build in her chest again, the feeling that she had to go, go, go. Like she had to run away from something, but there was nothing to run away from. As usual she could feel the panic begin in her stomach, and her breathing was accelerating, and no matter how much she tried to calm down, it was inevitable. Nothing she tried yet could stop this from happening, and the only thing she could do was try to distract herself until her rune moved again. The fifth time her rune would move.

She ran around the house, pacing no longer satisfying. She ran upstairs, barefooted, letting her feet trail along the carpet, going up to her room, which now held an easel that Chris had brought through the magical cupboards.

_The cupboards…._ Four days ago, when Chris had finished interrogating her, she sent the jewels that Ghayth had lent her back through them, though she kept the outfit. Clary could still remember the shine of the jewels, the weight of them upon her head, and how she felt a little sad to depart from them. She hadn't even worn them for an hour yet they had already felt like a part of her. However, they weren't hers, so she had to give them back.

She had to, after all, Ghayth helped a lot, and Clary for the millionth time wondered if he was going to be okay.

Clary checked the watch she wore on her wrist at all times now, and her already speeding heart sped up even more when she saw that she less than five minutes.

_Chris, where in the world are you?_

When had she become so dependent on him?

She ran out of her room, down the short hallway and practically leaping from the top step of the stairs and landing at the bottom, almost losing her balance, but Sebastian's instincts kicked in and she absorbed the impact by bending her knees. From where she was standing at the base of the steps she had a perfect view of the place, on her right was the living room, sofa turned to face the wall on Clary's right, where the T.V was mounted, and a coffee table in front of it. On her left was the kitchen, the island with a marble top dominated the scene while another bar, also marble topped, separated the kitchen and the living room. The floor in the living room was green carpet, while the kitchen had a wooden floor.

Clary's eyes darted around the room, looking for something to distract herself with, and found Chris's iPad which she had been playing with before her anxiousness began. She pressed the button and sat on the sofa harshly, putting a pillow on her lap and bringing her legs as close to herself as possible. With the iPad on the pillow she searched through the apps, looking for a good one. She had only a few minutes to spare and she really didn't want to think about it, she'd much rather relax in bliss and let the attack just hit her, because it was worse if she just sat there and waited for it to happen.

Clary could still remember being about six years old, when her mother, Jocelyn, had decided to take Clary to get a flu shot.

_What's a shot?_ Young Clary had asked.

_It's needle, and they're going to put something special in you so that you can stay healthy and won't have to get sick," _ Jocelyn had answered.

_They're going to put a needle in me!_ Clary had started crying and wailing, and in the end it took Jocelyn and three doctors to restrain her while a nurse injected her. In the end, she hardly felt it, but the fact that Clary had anticipated something horrible made her mind get all antsy.

That's why Clary was alright with not knowing. Don't tell her how many stitches she'll need, don't tell her how her tonsils will be removed, or when, don't tell her where the shot will go, just do it, and she'll bet she'll react better than if you had told her in the first place.

Clary looked down at the iPad in her hands, and clicked on a random app, a red one with what looked like a biohazard sign. When it opened up, she read the app was called Plague Inc. A game where you had to infect the world with your plague, control the way it transmits, the symptoms it causes, and the abilities it has, and eradicate the human race.

_Now why would Chris have something like that? _ Clary thought sarcastically.

She decided to play it anyway, see how it was. Her initial opinion was that this game was for psychotic maniacs who were a bit on the insane side and spent their time creating ways to kill people, but as she played a game, learning that it was actually a strategic game, where you had to think about what would actually happen if an actual plague like this occurred in real life, and not just some gory game where you slaughter people, she began to get into it. Of course, it was on the easiest level to play, but as Clary went through the game, she began to feel a little murderous.

It was strange how playing this game made her want to kill off human kind.

**Writer's POV: For those of you who have played this game, you know exactly what I'm talking about when I say you feel a little happy when you kill human kind. For those of you who haven't, one, it's just a game, no bloody stuff or scenes, it just the map of the world, and two, no, I do not wish to kill human kind. **

Clary was so focused as she watched the Infected number of people increase by the thousands on the screen, that when she felt her chest convulse she almost forgot what caused it. Dropping the game to the side, she crumpled in on herself, cradling her wrist as she lay on her side, trying to take deep breaths through her gritted teeth as the rune traced her black blood onto it. This time she actually saw the hand move from where the four would be on the clock, towards the five. But she only watched for a few seconds before shutting her eyes tightly, clenching her jaw to prevent a scream.

She could feel her body spasm as it struggled to stay together while her chest felt like it was going to explode, her heart moving faster than it ever did, faster than it should be able to. It was a miracle to Clary that she could even be aware of these things, that she could think aside from the pain, be aware of what was going on around her. That didn't mean it hurt any less, if not more. She was always convinced that the pains were stronger each time.

Her pain level was reaching its peak, and that's when she heard a door open and close. The shuffling of boots came in, and then a voice, but Clary was in too much agony to even care as to who it was, because they shouted, "Clary!"

Suddenly a pair of arms wrapped around her, pulling her into his lap from where his back leaned against the couch on the ground. Black eyes came into her vision, his white blond hair dangling over her. Chris cradled her like a baby, and even though it was obvious that she was shocking him, waves of electricity from her rune transmitting from her to him, he held on, trying to hold back a grimace because he knew that Clary was going through much worse.

"Clary, listen to me, how long ago did it start?" Chris asked, holding her cheek with one hand and holding onto her with another. All she could do was try not to cry out.

"Clary, please, how long have you been like this? Can you not remember?" He tried to calm her, rubbing her back soothingly, but it did nothing to release her of her misery.

She could hardly hear him, the pounding of her heart filled her ears, and suddenly she was screaming. Screaming like it was the end of the world, and it might as well have been, for all the difference it made to her at the moment. It was time like these that you made promises and wishes you'd never make if you were completely healthy. At this point, Clary wished that her chest really would explode, if only it meant the pain would stop, that somebody would just take a knife and kill her, burn her, drown her, something to end this.

She might have probably screamed that last part, because Chris pulled her tighter to him, sending a strong shock through him that made his back arch, and he said in a tight voice, lips close to her ear, "No Clary, it's just the pain, you don't want to die, you want the pain to stop. You know it'll stop soon, really soon, just hang on okay."

Clary gasped for air, sucking in oxygen as if her heart was beating too fast and wasting all the of its supply much too quickly. Her hand that wasn't in stinging pain was clenching onto Chris's shirt, and a small part of her wondered how quickly he must have taken all of his jackets and warm clothes to reach her. Another, smaller part, wondered that if she wasn't having her episode, she wouldn't be pulled into this tight hug, on his lap, in the first place.

But she couldn't marvel at this for long before her anguish overtook everything mentally wise and physically wise. Her voice screamed and her body waged war against this, fighting for this to end.

And like all things, it did end. Her heart starting by slowly beating less intense, and the sting in her wrist no longer felt like she wore a bracelet of heated thorns. Her breathing slowed, and she tried to usher along the process by breathing in and out, hearing Chris instructing her to do so. As she did so, she could hear Chris speaking in her ear, she wasn't really paying attention to him, but she could hear things like, "I'll never be late again," and "Tomorrow I'll make sure you're not alone when this happens," and so on. Part of Clary thought that it didn't matter if he was there or not, the pain was the same, but he did keep her calmer, especially in the minutes before it actually happened, when the panic would build in her chest.

After a few minutes of just breathing, Clary could only feel a slight ache in her chest, which would soon fade, and her wrist was now only a small burn to her. She could feel that Chris had also relaxed a bit, his shocks now only small electric touches, as if he were touching a door knob after he rubbed his hair on a balloon. She was now more aware of her position on him, and realized that he was still wearing snow pants, which urged her to ask, "So, where did you go that was so important it took more than five hours?" Her tone was playfully accusing.

He raised an eyebrow, noticing her tone, but dropped it and sat back more comfortably, adjusting her in his grip. Clary felt like she should be embarrassed about being held by him like this, but she still felt Sebastian's way of thinking in her, and it said that this was perfectly fine. Clary still thought like Clary, but sometimes Sebastian's thinking influenced her decisions.

Chris was playing with her hair, tugging on it, his chin was tilted up and his eyes were looking at the ceiling, Clary's was facing the wall in front of her. Both weren't looking at each other, as if not looking at each other would help not recognize their positions.

He opened his mouth to say, "It took me so long because we're actually a bit far off from the nearest town, I was already coming back, but then I looked at the time and practically ran to the nearest corner to use that trinket I told you about, do you remember?" Clary nodded her head, back in Saudi Arabia, he had told her about it. "Well I used it to transport me directly in front of the house."

"Wait," Clary suddenly realized, "It's already been a week?" A whole week, today, she'd been spending with Chris. It was, weird, yet not weird. She felt like it went by so fast, yet not fast at all. "So hold up, what did you go out to the bittering cold of Russia for?"

He chuckled, a low rumbling she felt in his stomach, "I went to get something for you. I guess I could have gotten it through the cupboards, but I felt like I should have personally have gotten them."

"Gotten what?" She was suddenly very curious. She stood up, and Clary didn't notice the quick sad look he had when she got up, like he was beginning to like their little seating arrangement. However, he wiped the look off his face and stood up as well, leading her towards the wall where the door would be, directly behind the couch.

There were three large plastic white bags there, and when Chris unveiled what was within them, she could hardly hold back her sharp intake of breath. He had gotten art supplies. Now normally, that would sound lame, but to Clary, art supplies sounded the same to her as a five hundred dollar spending trip at the mall would sound to any other girl. There were tubs of paint of many different colors, and the paint was a _very _good brand. There were paintbrushes of all different sizes, another easel, a see through pallet, sketchpads, pencils, erasers, charcoal, watercolors, rulers, oil pastels, canvas paper, markers, special scissors, fountain pens, white out, and more than Clary's little artist mind could ever want.

She shrieked in joy and couldn't contain her glee as she went through everything, a large smile plastered on her face. Chris watched her off to the side, leaving her to her world where all this junk made sense to her, because he sure as hell had no clue what half of this was for.

Clary ran up to him, and asked, "How did you get all of this?" Chris smiled as Clary looked at him in fascination. "I asked around town, eventually I felt like I had enough to take back to you." He answered her casually, as if buying his sister a ton of art supplies happened every day.

"Thank you!" Clary squealed as she sat amongst her treasure, too high on excitement to care about anything else.

Chris stared at her, amazed at how this made her so happy, and happy with himself that he was the one who caused her happiness. As he stared, he asked her, "Does it still hurt?"

Clary, who was so absorbed in her presents, was taken aback a bit, confused at his question. "What?"

"Your rune," he said this while tapping his own wrist, "Does it still hurt?"

"Oh," Clary did a quick inventory of her own body, observing how it felt, and finding nothing out of the ordinary. "No, I'm fine now, why do you ask?"

Chris walked towards her, leaned down to reach where she kneeled, and fingered her hair, "No reason, but do you notice that your hair is becoming slightly back to the way it was?" He said this with an air of sad nostalgia, as if he wasn't necessarily happy about that.

She grabbed her hair, and inspected the ends, they were curling just a bit, more wavy than her natural curls. "No, I hadn't noticed, I guess as the rune wears off, I slowly change back." She said this as if it didn't matter, because frankly, she didn't really care right now how her hair was. She shrugged, and then indicated towards the supplies, "Hey, I know this is rough because you're the one who got me this stuff, but could you help me take them to my room?"

Chris looked at her as she had offended him, "Are underestimated my strength? Don't think I can handle carrying this up the stairs or something? Do you realize who you're talking to?" He made a big show of shoving everything back into the bags, and taking one in each hand, leaving the last one for Clary to handle.

The walked up the stairs, easily, and Clary knew that even she could have carried all three of the bags up to her room, no problem. As soon as the bags were put down, she picked up a sketch pad, and took out her Prismacolor pencils.

"Out, out! I need to draw something, I can my fingers itching to get the feel of a pencil beneath them." She shoved Chris out, while he pretending that he couldn't walk or hear, so Clary spent five minutes having to drag him by the front of his shirt.

When he was out, he told her, "Is this the thanks I get after being this nice to you?" His mouth was twisted in a smirk, so Clary felt no guilt. "I need thinking space, you take up that thinking space."

Before she shut the door, he said, "Does that mean you think about me all the time? How sweet. I'll be in my room in you need me." She stuck her head out of the doorway and yelled at him, "That was NOT what I meant! You know that Chris! Chris!" she watched his back as he walked down the hall to his room, and shut the door.

Clary closed hers too, and walked back to her sketch pad on her bed. _Her _sketchpad. _Her_ bed. _Her_ room. Since when had she been able to call any of this hers?

Sitting down, she opened to the first page, not yet knowing what to draw. She turned to look at herself in the vanity mirror on the desk, and stared at her reflection. She remembered something from long ago, a question she had made her mother when she was young.

_Mommy, why don't you ever draw me?_

Clary suddenly had an idea, and set out to work, her fingers knowing what to do before her mind realized. She was going to do something she never did before, never liked before, because it was hard for her, and because it never ended the way she would have liked. But now was different, now she could.

As she drew for almost an hour, Clary drew her own portrait of herself.

From before she drew on the rune.

Turns out it wasn't as easy as she originally thought, and Clary ended up not actually drawing her life like version of herself, but more cartoonish. Her large green eyes were more lighter than she thought they actually were, and her small almost anime like nose was cute, but you could tell that it was her. Her red orange hair swirled around her, as if a breeze were tossing it back, her face showed an easy smile, one that said, 'everything's okay.' She drew herself from the stomach up, her left hand reaching up into her hair, fingers shoved in it, her right hand clutching Jace's ring around her neck.

She made sure to add plenty of freckles, and she wore something totally Clary-like, a red hoodie. Everything was a burst of color, her hair, her eyes, the shade of her skin, which was peach mixed with darker shades here and here to highlight my cheekbones and shadowed areas.

She was pretty proud of it, because it had to be perfect. She signed it in the lower right corner with her fountain pen, and carefully tore it out of the sketchpad. She carefully, as silent as she was taught, eased her way out of the room, and checked Chris's room, sure enough, she could tell he was still in there, and as if she were a ghost, made her way downstairs, and into the kitchen.

Clary thought hard. Was she really going to do this, after all this time, after all the trust that she had built with Chris. But there was no doubt about it, it had been a week, and she had to, even though Sebastian's mind raged against hers, she was still in control. She opened a cupboard, and placed her drawing inside.

And when she closed it, she pictured the desk back in the Institute, and the top drawer where she knew Maryse often looked through.

Opening the cupboard again, she sighed in relief, when she saw the drawing was no longer there.

But that's when she heard Chris behind her, and in a voice that held both question and curiosity, he asked, "What are you doing?"

Had she not have Sebastian's qualities, she would have jumped, flinched, something that would make him suspect of her, that would make her turn around to face him with a face that said, 'how did you see?' But when she turned around, she fixed her expression into one of a bored face, someone who was passing the time.

"I was going to look for something to eat, but I'm not really in the mood for anything, got any suggestions?" She asked, taking on a tone that hid all of her nervousness, and that not even she could believe she could possess.

He looked at her funny, though didn't seem to think anything of it. "Well I don't know, I really don't care much about what I eat, I'll basically take anything that's given to me."

"How about some of that hot chocolate, or hot cocoa or whatever it was from when we were in Paris?" she suddenly said, the idea occurring to her in an instant.

"Sure, I'll have some too. I thought you'd still be in your room, painting or drawing, or whatever. You know, something, artsy." Chris asked her, "I didn't even hear you come down the stairs."

"Well, I do have your characteristics, I train with you, I live with you, you're my brother," she said rattling off some reasons. "But yeah, I drew a bit, but I can't seem to find the inspiration to make something worth putting on a canvas, so I thought maybe a snack would spark something."

She turned back to the cabinet, pictured the delicious drink he had shown her, and soon pulled out two mugs of steaming hot cocoa. They both sat on stools at the bar that separated the kitchen from the living room, and Chris had picked up the T.V remote, flipping through channels until Clary's eyes sparked at one.

"Wait, wait, wait!" She flapped her hand at his which was pressing down on the control, "I think I've heard of this show."

They both watched as a thin, tall women with long, straight dark brown hair sat at a computer, typing to a teenager who seemed to be in an underground facility, typing back to the women in secret.

"What's the show called?" Chris questioned.

"It's called Nikita, it's about this women, named Nikita, who was a troubled teenager, and was rescued from death row by a secret U.S. agency known only as Division, who trained her as a spy and assassin. She was eventually betrayed by the only people she thought she could trust. Now, after three years in hiding, Nikita is seeking retribution and making it clear to her former boss, Percy and her former friends Michael and Birkhoff that she will stop at nothing to expose and destroy their covert operation. Division still recruits and trains other young people, faking their deaths and erasing the fact that they exited and turning them into cold and efficient killers. One of these new recruits is Alex, a pretty girl with a pretty bad past. But Alex purposely brought herself into Division so that she could spy for Nikita. There's awesome action in which Nikita kicks ass while wearing killer outfits, which, now that I think about it, is the main reason as to why I watch it." Clary rattled off the show, only because her nerved were still tightly wound due to the fact the Chris had almost caught her, and it was only sheer luck that he had got there seconds after she had sent her drawing. She felt like she was treading on thin ice.

"Sounds like a pretty interesting show." Chris watched the screen as Nikita did some awesome fighting moves on her own against guys twice her size, and in a dress, too. "I bet you could do that, you wouldn't look as awesome, but you could."

She slightly slugged him in the arm, "Hey, I could look like that if I wanted to, but I don't, because that's not my style."

Chris raised his eyebrows at her, "Oh? And what is your style? Dressing like a gypsy while getting kidnapped by Arabian warlocks?"

The thin ice she thought she was treading on turned into solid ground as she punched him, hard. "That was not my fault! There were people watching, and you kind of intimidated me with that whole, 'those warlocks do things that not even I want to face,' thing. Speaking of which, what was that about? The great Chris is actually a scaredy cat?"

He scoffed, "Me? Scared? Only if I were removed of my good looks, skills, put in a different body, and were born in a different dimension, and even then, there's only a slight chance, very tiny, of me ever being _scared_."

"Oh, right. My bad, it was because of me, alright. If that's your excuse, I'll accept it," Clary spoke in a mocking tone.

Chris grabbed her wrist, and twisted it behind her back, his voice trying to take on an intimidating tone, but his face was failing at hiding a large grin plastered on his face.

"Take it back Clary…." He wasn't twisting hard enough to harm her, only so that it was uncomfortable.

She tried to snarl back at him, a smile fighting its way onto her, "Never, I said what I meant."

He grabbed her other wrist, holding both hands with only one of his, and began to poke at her sides, with each poke he said, "Take. It. Back. Take. It. Back. Cla. Ry."

Clary gritted her teeth in order to stop her giggling from breaking through, only letting out puffs of air and smiles, wriggling around and trying to break away from his grip. It wasn't that ticklish, he hadn't even found her weak spot.

He tickled more forcefully, getting her ribcage and abdomen, and then his ribcage poked right underneath her armpits, not in it, but at the top of her ribs on the side.

_Damnit, he found it._ Clary couldn't stop it this time, she started giggling uncontrollably, a bit embarrassed and conscious of the fact that she was doing so, but she couldn't help it.

"St- stoppp," She sputtered through her laughing, tears had come to her eyes, and her white hair had fallen all over, and she stirred in her seat so much, she slipped out of her stool, and fell onto her knees, Chris leaning over her behind her, still holding onto her wrists and tickling her like a madman.

"Not unless you take it back." Chris seemed to find it funny how her breath hitched whenever he tickled her weak spot, "Oh, so you don't like it when someone tickled you, here." He practically harassed her ribcage.

Clary twisted around, getting him on his back, and just when she thought that he had released her, and that she was free to run away, he lunged forward, grabbing her shoulders, and forced her to the ground, both of them laughing.

Chris wasn't really looking at her, laughter glazing his eyes over, so Clary took the opportunity to look at him, regretting it when a bit of guilt slip through, and she quickly sobered up when she remembered what she did that counted as betrayal.

He noticed that she stopped his laughing, and looked her over. Clary stared back at him, both of them analyzing each other, in a comfortable silence, reading each other's faces.

"What's going on inside your head right now?" He asked in a hushed, curious tone, like he really wanted to know what was inside her thoughts, her mind, her worried, her dreams. Everything.

Clary looked at him with a placid expression, and decided to say something related to the truth.

"I was thinking, about us. How much, trust, and things we've built so far." She found it strange how it easily she could tell him that, yet she found that she liked that she could.

Chris's eyes had gotten a sparkle in them, that Sebastian sparkle, that demon sparkle. He was going from big bro Chris, to you-know-who Sebastian. Clary could feel the Sebastian in her build up too, Clary's reasoning for why this, all of this, was so, so, wrong, disappear as her inner demon threw all of this away. All her reasons were petty, small, compared to the good things that could come out of it. Chris's eyes had gotten black, just as she could bet hers were as well.

"You know," Chris asked, confidently, "I think you're rune interrupted something back in Saudi Arabia."

"Oh did it?" Clary asked, in a voice as confident as his, though she hid that confidence in a face that said, 'oh really now?' On the outside she was calm collected, even on the inside, but her inner conscious, the one that she would have listened to a week ago, was cowering in fright, nervousness. Of course, she didn't let that coward take over her.

Chris let his eyes close halfway, "You remember what I told you, just pull back, if you don't like it."

She nodded her head, "Trust me, that part, I remember." Chris pulled down to her, one hand on the floor next to her shoulder, the other carefully perched on her collarbone, not restraining her, but just to feel that's she's there.

Clary didn't know whether or not to continue this, but as he drew closer, Clary found her chin tilting upwards, her eyes fluttering shut, and she felt the warmth of his lips on hers, she could tell he wanted more, but she kept it at that. Breathing his scent, he smelled like newly fallen snow, something that could be good and bad, something that could be appreciated by some, but not others. Some looked at him in awe, others in frustration and despair.

He was rough yet kept himself soft, and she knew that this required a lot of willpower for him, so she respected him for that, she lifted one arm, and placed it on his back, keeping it there gently, Chris took that as a sign that he could keep going, advance in his play, and she let him, he kissed with more force, and Clary made sure to not do anything that would make him think she wanted more. That's what she feared, that she would want more, not her, but her inner demon.

His tongue probed her lips, asking permission for her to open up, and that's where Clary stopped. She pulled back, much to his disappointment. Yet he didn't oblige her anymore.

His hand was still on her collarbone, and he traced it gently with one finger, trailing up her neck, curling up her cheek and around her cheekbone, and settling to the middle of her lips. Clary unraveled herself from him, and she sat up, on her knees, but Chris hadn't moved much except for sitting back on his knees as well to let her get up. They were only inched apart, and they both showed no sign of emotion on either of their faces.

Chris stared at her, and Clary didn't have to think like him to know what he was waiting for. He wanted an answer, she hadn't pulled away, but how did she feel…..

She closed her eyes, and listened to the rush of her blood in her ears, just realizing that she could feel her heartbeat move as fast as a hummingbird's wings. Leaning forward, she rested her chin on Chris's right shoulder, her hands to her side, his as well.

She took a deep breath, what did she feel?

Despite the guilt of practically cheating on Jace, which was a war she could feel would explode in her mind later, but now felt like such a puny matter, she didn't feel necessarily _bad_ about it.

But was that her, or her demonic sense?

Would she feel the same after the rune disappeared, if it did?

She pulled back, opened her eyes, and tried to tell Chris through her eyes, that she did not know yet, but in the end, she offered him a smile. In which he smiled back, a true, genuine smile. Not the ones that Valentine had showed him how to use to fake emotion that he never had.

But a smile that he started to use when Clary came into his life.

**Chris POV**

He had asked Clary to sleep with him tonight, and she agreed, much to his pleasure, on the conditions that they would just sleep. And he was okay with that, completely fine, after today, he had realized how much Clary had actually come to finally trust him, even slightly.

So that night, as they slept side to side, their shoulders barely touching, even though his flesh craved for the feel of her skin on his, it was what she wanted, and he would allow that, she was like him, after all. He was sure that sooner or later she would want him too. He wouldn't force her though, he had long ago learned that forcing her would only turn her away.

However, that was before, before she had drawn the one rune she had made that had benefited him, if he used force now, would her mind draw to him like it does, make her feel what he does, want what he does, or does she still think in her own way?

He wouldn't push it, they were too close now, and things were so good, he couldn't risk it. For as long as he could, he watched as the moonlight coming through the window danced on her skin, illuminating her beauty, because to him, she was beautiful, she stood out, not like any other person in the world. Her hair was loose, and around her head like a halo, and she looked like a goddess. She was sound asleep, and Chris moved close to her, careful not to wake her, and kissed her gently on the forehead, and then faintly on the lips. Her mouth twitched a bit, but other than that, she remained asleep. He even thought he could see a smile on her face.

That morning, he didn't know when he had fallen asleep, he awoke on his side, and Clary's arm was draped over his stomach, her chest to his back, and he felt warm. He touched her arm, and realized she was shivering, cold. He turned around, so that he faced her, and pulled her into his arms, warming her as much as he could. Held her as tight as he could without awaking her.

Like he never saw her put that drawing in the cupboard.

**Lacie: OOOOOOOOHH O: Yay! N button is fixed.**

**Chris: what took you so long to update?**

**Clary: Many people were waiting for you!**

**Lacie: I was going to update earlier, like DAYS earlier, even yesterday, but since school started, teachers have given homework, and my parents don't like it when I stay forever in my room.**

**Clary: I feel a rant coming in**

**Lacie: Okay, so my parents hate it when I'm in my room for more than several hours, but that's mainly because of homework for me, so yesterday, I decided, hey, why not go upstairs, take my laptop with me, and type in the presence of my parents so that they don't get mad at me for being in my room for so long. But you know what happens? My dad gets ANGRY because I sat there typing for an hour and a half, saying "all I hear you do is type type type" WHAT THE HECK I got upstairs so that you don't complain, and yet you still complain! I'm not even on the internet! I'm just typing! I do my homework, I don't do drugs, don't drink, don't party all day with friends, don't spend my time texting, don't stay up all night watching tv, none of that, YET YOU COMPLAIN?**

**Clary: You are preaching to the choir! :)**

**Clary & Lacie: *talk about parents***

**Chris: Anyway…. Thanks for reading this, and I hope, well not really, I don't care, as long as I still get scenes with Clary, that you guys review. **

**Lacie: For every review I get for this chapter, I will post Chris saying that he loves you. So like if your name is like, idk, mary, he'll say, I love you mary.**

**Chris: When was this decided?!**

**Lacie: JUST NOW**


	10. Drawings and paintball

**Lacie: Hello my special readers! Thank you so much for those of you who reviewed, and those of you prefer to read in silence, that's cool too.**

**Clary: DO IT CHRIS DO IT**

**Chris: Must I do this?**

**Lacie: Of course you do :D**

**Chris: But I-**

**Clary: I AM HAVING SHOCKING SEIZURE/HEART ATTACKS EVERY DAY AND I GYSPY DANCED, AND YOU'RE COMPLAINING ABOUT THIS?!**

**Chris: Oh fine, if it'll get you to fix your caps lock…..**

**Noaverageangel, you have accompanied me through this journey since many chapters ago, supporting me, I wish I could hold your hand and look into your eyes as I send to you my gratitude, I love you.**

**Faith, you have become a familiar sight on Lacie's review page, and therefore you are now someone very close to me, I love you, and all the things you have said proves to me that this story is worth writing.**

**Huntress3419, you always look at our story with enthusiasm, therefore I love you as well, and love you as equally.**

**Avaatquevale2250, your joy causes a streak of light to illuminate my dark heart, a way out of my inner monstrosity, I love you, and that is all you must know. For I do, love you.**

**89724princess-lauren: for a princess, you are quite murderous, and that causes my demonic core to reach for you, I love you with all my black heart can muster.**

**Greygirl2348: I love you, simply because you love this story. **

**Lyraherondale10: You made my stone cold face crack, and reveal the smile buried underneath it, I love you as well.**

**Chris: Okay this is too many people, and I am way too sappy, and getting out of character.**

**Lacie: FINE LET ME DO IT. Message to all my wonderlovely reviewers and constant readers, I'm sorry if this sounded kinda corny to you all, but I'm so happy when you guys reviewed, I swear I had a fangirl meltdown, my cousin was letting me use her laptop, and I told her I wanted to see if anyone had reviewed, and when I checked to see, I had a panic attack because of all these beautiful messages. I LOVE YOU and the fact that you all love this story!**

**Chris: That's a lot of love. I don't think I want to be in this story anymore.**

**Lacie: No you're the main character, you gotta stay.**

**Clary: Hey….what about me**

**Chris: I already read the chapter, you don't have a point of view in it.**

**Clary: WHAT!? D:**

**Lacie: Anyway, sorry for the long intro, it's my thing, anyway I hope you guys enjoy the chapter, and remember, any suggestions can be sent to me via PM**

**Enjoy!**

***Random force causes Chris to say: AlphaOmega314 I love you.***

**Jace POV**

"Where were they again last night?" Alec was sitting amongst a large pile of books, reading short histories on all the places that they have discovered Clary was at.

Isabelle was at the map on the table, trying to find a pattern to the jumps of locations. Her hair was in a braid, starting halfway up her head and going down her spine, possibly the first braid Jace saw her in for years, having matured out of it and taking on a 'I'm hot and dangerous' look. Personally, maybe just because he thought like an older brother, he thought she looked even more beautiful with her hair like that, face holding no makeup. She looked younger, and innocent, even though when you thought of Isabelle, innocent was probably the last word you'd associate with her.

Pushing back a long strand of dark hair, she said in his direction without taking her eyes off the map, "Russia,"

Alec gave her a huffed sigh, "Yes, but where? Russia is huge, was she in the north, south? Near which city?"

Isabelle frowned at him, "I don't know, somewhere east, about, twenty, maybe ten miles from a city named," she squinted at the small name written in a handwriting as old as the Institute itself. The Shadowhunters needed an upgrade.

"Named what?" Alec asked again, deeply concentrated on a book written in Arabic with a dictionary at hand.

"Yakutsk," she finally pronounced.

"Is the city large? Prosperous? Does it mine, or is it large for its ports?" Alec pushed her.

Isabelle snapped at him, "I don't know! Isn't that what _you're_ supposed to be doing!" She finally looked up from where she was busy practically having a staring showdown with the map. "I look for patterns, Jace contacts the places around where she's been, and you give us information on the places she's been at!"

Alec tossed the book he was reading aside, and stood. "Well, let me take a look at the map, I'll see if there's something you missed, and you read the books."

"Are you crazy? I don't understand any of that crap, I hate researching and you're better at it," She crossed her arms, and despite the fact that what she said made sense, she made it sound like they were two children fighting over a toy.

"Isabelle, let me look at the map." Alec stepped forward and Izzy blocked his way, pointing at the books, "I'm doing just fine! Now go back to your books Alec!"

Jace felt could feel his temple throb, they were both acting like such kids, and he wanted to yell at both of them to shut up, but when he looked up from the phonebook he was going through, he didn't see two bickering kids, he saw his two partners, his _friends, _ who both had bags under their eyes, and who undoubtedly had lost weight to this, as well as himself. They were his teammates, the ones he would always rely on, who he trusted his life with whenever they would go on expeditions to clear out vampire coves, or a demon infested building. They were both putting their concentration to help find Clary, because they knew he needed them, that he couldn't do this without them.

He wanted to get up and hug the two of them, tell them how much they meant to him, but knowing that that would be awkward and completely unJace-like, he simply repositioned the phone on his lap, looked back down at the number he was calling, and hung up on the poor English speaking Arabic man who spoke of a white angel walking through their city, giving people a lot of money for their cheap stuff.

_Probably just some organization for the poor or something, _he thought, _or the poor sap was drunk on alcohol._

He put the phone away, stood up, and stretched his legs. Man, he'd been sitting in that chair for so long he could have been a part of it. Taking slow strides to the table of the two angels where the map sat at, he folded his hands together and put them behind his back, observing the circle that they had drawn on the last few days. Five times they saw the little golden light appear on the map, the only thing proving Clary's existence. And all those appearances were happening at the same time, around evening, when the sun had set, and how Clary was managing to do this was a wonder to him, half of him considered the possibility of how she was even doing it.

Jocelyn said that she didn't know about the tracking rune, unless Sebastian found out about it and told her, which was most likely in that case. But how was she sending the signal then? And at the exact same too.

Jace's eyes followed the circle on the map in the order in which they had drawn them.

First was that small village in Saudi Arabia, where Clary's little light had flickered for two nights, before moving onto Peru in South America, Madrid in Spain, and finally Russia. There was no pattern as far as they could see as to predict in which part of the world that Clary would end up. It felt like they were playing a game that nobody knew the rules to, and for all Jace knew, the house itself might as well be pulling up random cards every time it switched locations.

_Ahh Clary, where are you?_

The desperate panic that Jace had felt a few days ago had died down, though that might just have been due to the fact that he was holding himself together for the sake of his friends, whenever he was alone in the training room, or awake at night, he could feel the pressure that he was trying to suppress break apart and he overwhelms himself in his sorrow. Lately he spends half the night staring at a picture of Clary and him, it was a recent one, he was laying in the infirmary still, sheets pulled up to his waist, and knees pulled up so that a book rested on them. Clary was on his left, wearing a red and blue checkered shirt with the buttons open, revealing her purple camisole underneath and his ring on a silver chain around her neck. She had on blue jeans and pulled up her legs so that they were on the bed, and was wearing brown combat boots. She had wrapped one arm around his neck and was leaning into him, their cheeks pressing into each other, her red hair mixing into his golden blonde, her green eyes were looking at the camera, which she held out with her other arm.

In the photo, she was looking into the camera, making it look like she was looking at him, right now, and in the picture Jace wasn't looking at the camera, but at her, unable to look away.

Jace couldn't help but be jealous of the Jace in the picture, if only life could be like one, forever caught in one single moment, how amazing it would be if could stay with Clary by his side, smiling, for as long as possible. But of course, nothing lasts forever, not even photographs.

He had the picture in his pocket right now, kept safe in his wallet, and felt very tempted to pull it out, but didn't. He didn't want Alec and Isabelle more reason to worry. Speaking of his parabatai and his sister, they were still bickering. Jace turned around from where his vacant eyes were no longer even examining the map, and shot a sharp look at the two, "Will you guys stop fighting? If you're tired of what you're doing then go ahead and take a break or something. Alec, shouldn't you be in Alicante with Maryse and Jocelyn attending the meeting, you know, now that you're an adult and all that junk."

Alec turned away from where he was holding a book defensively in front of him, as if the torn and worn out pages would protect him from his sister's wrath, "I asked if I could be excused from the meetings, and mom said yes, I made her promise to tell us what went on. By now, there should be no reason for them to hide things from us."

Jace nodded, he knew that Alec just didn't want to leave Jace, the meetings in the Clave have gotten to the point where they had to be held in Alicante, causing Jocelyn, Maryse, Luke, and others to have to Portal there. Thought he understood and appreciated his parabatai's decision, he would have felt much better knowing that the information came from Alec himself. Yes, Maryse had no reason to keep things from them, but Maryse still saw them with mothers's eyes, meaning that she would hide whatever she thought would upset them even more. The Clave was still persistent on the fact that Clary was working with Sebastian to tear down the law and turn everyone into Demon Shadowhunters. There was good news though, not everyone participating in the meetings or in the Clave considered Clary a menace to them. Jocelyn had contacted many of the Shadowhunters that were there the night the Valentine had shut down the glass towers, having them speak up on Clary's behalf on how she helped create the rune that helped Shadowhunters combine strengths with Downworlders, how brave she was, and how willing she was to help them in their dire situation.

The bad news was that it was only those people that supported Clary, no one on the council were convinced enough about the idea, so the search for them was still on, though whether or not they had any clues as to how to find them, he wasn't sure. The only reason they were still holding meetings was because there was enough people complaining about it that they had to think rethink and consider everything.

So they were still at a standstill. Clave didn't know where she was, but that meant neither did they, and they had to find her first.

He sighed, straightening out his already ramrod posture, he walked over to where the two were still giving each other mocking looks. Though they were fighting, Jace could see how much they actually enjoyed fighting. It gave them something else to think about than the mess of things that they were already in.

Bending over, he picked up the Arabic book that Alec had dropped off, and started fingering through the pages, "Alec, if you and Isabelle are going to fight over positions then I'll switch with you, you sound like you'd be better at talking to people over the phone than I would."

The siblings exchanged glances, trying to read his tone of voice to see for any hidden meaning, but Jace sat cross legged on the ground, several books open in front of him, all in Arabic, Spanish, and Russian. He squinted at the Spanish words, some of them making sense, considering he spoke Latin, but the rest was random jarble. He saw Alec pad over to where he had left the phone, and pick up the phone book that had the numbers of the Institutes around the area, and start to dial nuimbers. Isabelle was back to her place, having another round of staring at the map. Jace internally sighed this time. It felt like they were doing all they could, but really they were doing nothing at all.

Giving up on the Spanish book, Jace heaved a large Russian volume onto his lap, and called over to Isabelle, "hey Izzy, is there a Russian to English dictionary anywhere around here? I can't understand any of this."

Isabelle looked around, mumbling to herself, "I'm pretty sure Mom left it somewhere around here," She walked around the library, looking at the shelves, and turned to Alec, "Alec do you know where she left it?"

Alec said something into the phone, and then responded, his blue eyes sure of it, "Mom always leaves things she just used in the drawer of the desk, remember?"

Isabelle made a nod of understanding, and walked over to the other side of the desk, opening the drawer, and Jace could hear her shuffle through some things, "Alec I can't find it, it was a thick blue one ri-" she abruptly stopped halfway through her sentence, and Jace looked up at her when he heard a sharp intake of breath come from her.

"Everything alright Izzy?" Alec asked.

Isabelle's face had gone pale, and said something in a small voice, but then cleared her throat and repeated herself, sounding stronger and more sure of herself, "Um, guys, you may want to see this."

Alec and Jace gave each other looks before quickly standing up and heading over to where Isabelle was, looking like Raziel had suddenly popped out of no where asking for directions.

At first, the sight didn't shock him, it comforted him, it was normal, he had seen her style of art all the time.

But then his fingers clasped around the sketch paper, his mind's eye practically seeing her hand go across the paper, pencil in hand.

Clary, his Clary.

She got through to them.

**Chris POV**

Paintball.

Clary wanted to play paintball.

As to what the hell that was, he had no clue. Probably something only an artist would play, he thought, at first imagining a ball of paint, and as to what they would do with it was far from him. When he had her what that was, she gave him an unbelievable look, as if she couldn't decide whether or not he seriously didn't know what it was, but then as he continued to stare at her, waiting for an answer, she giggled, a sound that made his ears tingle with delight, but at then was irritated when she only said, "You'll see!" Then left to get changed.

Sometimes Chris saw how much of a disadvantage he had when he realized he didn't have a normal childhood. He never played games, or played outside, demons don't do that, of course he knew what petty child games were, hide and seek, the weird game where someone was 'it' and then everyone ran away from 'it' as if 'it' had some weird disease. Chris always thought that game must have been invented to shun people.

He also knew about soccer, baseball, football, basketball, but paintball? Clary better clue him in.

Irritated, he had waited by the door, decked out in black snow pants and a thick black jacket, a red scarf around his neck and white stitched gloves. He was a demon but the pre-winter season was cold to even his hot blood. It was snowing lightly, little flakes coloring land bare landscape. And tapped his foot impatiently, not happy that cavalry didn't tell him what paintball was. It was enough he hadn't confronted her about the drawing, why hadn't he? He should right? But he felt like if he did he'd only push her away, and they were just closing the gap between them.

But his demonic mind banged and raged against the fact that she would go against him like that. He wanted to go up to her and demand that she explain why she would do that, and who, even though he already had a guess, she sent it to. He wanted to fit with her, and now that her demonic senses were just like his, have her unleash her wrath too, just to have someone equal to fight with. But something was wrong with him lately, things that he wouldn't have thought twice about doing we're now doubts in his head. Here wanted to go out and find things to kill, but even since Clary accepted to be with him, she just, wasn't into it.

He heard light footsteps coming down the steps, and Clary emerged, wearing thick red tights, though they looked amazing on her, a black skirt with a layer of lacey patterns, black snow boots, a large white trenchcoat, and a black scarf tied around her neck. She was wearing red mittens that made her hands look so small, and black earmuffs that went behind her head hand under her hair, which was let loose around her. Her hair nowadays was no longer plain straight and white, it was wavy, the bottom edges curling, and her hair was edging on a red-ish color. He could even see some freckles start on the bridge of her nose.

Some people might think of her as small and cute, but to him she was gorgeous without her even having to try.

After she gave him quick look, she nodded, then asked, "Ready to go?"

"Yes, now will you tell me exactly what it is that we're going out into the cold to do?" He gave her what he hoped was a stern look, but even he knew his look wasn't into chastising.

She gave him a look of her own, one that he didn't know how to feel about, because she looked like she was happy to know something that he didn't, and that she wouldn't tell him until she thought it was necessary to. He wasn't used to being on this end of the stick. Yet strangely, he found it oddly satisfying that Clary was taking on his habits. He kind of liked it.

She walked backwards, looking at him, until she rounded the bar separating the living room from the kitchen, and stepped in front of the cupboards. She reached in, and pulled out a black bag, bulging with something inside.

Chris eyed the bag, "What's that?"

Clary sang, "You'll see"

They stepped outside, the cold air hitting their cheecks, but their warm blood warming them, and Chris walked off towards the left of the house. Clary instructed him that they needed a large space, but with objects to be able to hide behind, like a boulder, or a range of trees, maybe some hills to make it exciting. She still wouldn't explain what all this was for.

They walked until the house was the size of a penny in the distance, their surroundings being circular clearing in the middle of bare trees, frost tingeing their branches.

Clary set the bag on the ground with a thump, and finally opened the bag, revealing...

"Guns?" He asked, his mouth twisting in a mix of feelings. he never really used guns, Shadowhunter magic interfering with the way human technology worked, also because he didn't like the way they worked. As a Nephilim, you had to go through intense training, putting your mind in body in a specific state to be able to accomplish what they were meant to do, and then you were given the tools needed to do that. But anyone who knew how to pull a trigger could kill someone instantaneously. On one hand, it was advantageous, you didn't have to get your hands dirty, a job done quick and easy, in cold blood, something that rather suited his inner Sebastian, but on the other, someone with much less skills than him, could do the exact same thing.

"Not real guns," Clary responded, leaning down to pull one out, assembling it in a way that Chris didn't care to pay attention to, "They're guns used to play paintball."

Chris made an exasperated sigh, "Now if only you'll finally tell me what that is?"

Clary gave him a pointed look, "Well, I don't know the exact rules, but," she paused, handing him a gun of his own, it was black, and felt unfamiliar in his hands. He shifted his grip until the position felt right, "I do know, that we're against each other."

Chris could feel she wasn't finished, "Aaand," he groaned.

She stepped back a few meters, and raised her gun so that it was at her eye level. The gun in her grip was silver, and maybe longer than her arms. She looked a little ridiculous, like a little kid playing with big kid toys, but the look in her eyes and the color of her hair, now very distinct amongst the white background, made her look like a Russian princess defending her castle.

She looked ready to kill.

"Aaaanndd," she continued, "then you dooo, THIS!" She pulled the trigger, and Chris felt a sudden impact on his chest. Looking down, he saw a large, red splatter on his coat, smearing him.

Clary grinned wickedly, causing his inner demon to purr, and ran as fast as her abilities allowed, weaving in through trees, taking more shots at him, though this time, he knew what to expect.

Before he knew it, they were in a locked battle. They ran up and down the field, ducking behind trees and shooting at each other. It took him a couple of tried before he got the hang of shooting the stupid gun, but he caught on, even managing to get Clary sometimes. Being as small as she was, she was a hard target to get, and even though she aimed and fired at him multiple times, even she didn't get him very often.

He hid behind a massive tree trunk, bent down in a crouch, gun positioned so that if he saw Clary in front of him, he would be instantly ready to fire, suddenly though, he heard movement coming from behind him, and he just managed to roll out of the way before he felt the paint ball fly past him, nearly centimeters from his face.

"Damnit!" He heard before turning back and just catching a glimpse of Clary's white coat jump behind a small hill.

Carefully, he rounded around the hill, taking a wide turn, wanting to catch her from behind, keeping an eye on everything that moved, and his ears picking up any sound. As soon as Clary was in his vision, she still thought he was where she left him, so her attention was fixed on the tree where he used to hide, he centered his gun on her.

He had been aiming for her chest, since she was kneeling, but she had heard him, and in her attempt to duck down, the paintball hit her across the cheek. Baby blue dye splattered against her face, spots getting in her hair, and trickled into her mouth, he felt triumphant that he managed to get her, but then he wondered if he had hurt her.

She was coughing, and when he walked up to her, she choked out, "Eww," cough, cough, "it got into my mouth, gross." He was about to offer her his scarf to wipe her mouth on, but she retaliated and aimed her gun at him, spraying more red paint all over him.

He jumped over her, stretching out his leg to kick the gun out of her hands, and stealing it from her.

"Hey!" She pounced on him, causing them both to come crashing down, rolling in a fight for either weapon, one second she was one him, the next he on her. And then again and again. They were the only ones in the area for a long distance.

Anyone who was nearby would only hear laughter.

**Simon POV**

"Yup, that's Clary's style alright. It surprises me that she did a portrait though, she never did like making those of herself." Simon nodded at the drawing that Jace handed to him, examining every detail. "The signature too, I've seen plenty of Clary's stuff in the past, no one can do this like her."

He could see the tension in Jace's shoulders relax a bit. They were sitting on the rooftop of a tall seven story building, looking over the edge at the city. It was dark out, and the people and movement that he saw below seemed like nothing in comparison to what he was going through. Hard to believe that everyone down there had their own set of hard troubles.

Isabelle had texted him about an hour ago, saying that they had evidence that Clary was alright, but that they wanted him to make sure it was real. He had expected Isabelle to invite him over to Taki's or something, but instead Jace had called minutes later saying to meet him in this location, and that he would bring the evidence. Simon hadn't know what it was until it was shown to him.

He'd seen Clary's art his whole life, watching as her skills progressed from drawing Crayola potato shaped people, to realistic objects. He'd watched her every time she would pull out her sketchbook just to doodle, and even those were masterpieces. It always fascinated him, how she could take a pencil and some scratch paper, and make it into something he wanted to put in a frame and hang on a wall. He remembered playing a game in which he would draw random lines and figures, and she would have to make a drawing out of it. Always going way past his imaginative boundaries. Once he had only drawn two lines and one going perpendicularly through them, and she had made a monkey climbing a huge banana wearing an Abe Lincoln hat. Only the monkey was a realistic monkey.

So the instant Jace took the drawing out of his pocket, Simon knew in his no-longer beating heart that this was one hundred percent Clary.

"Where did you get this from?" Simon asked, after Jace had taken the drawing back. He was going to ask if him if he could keep it, but looking at Jace, he felt like Jace would need it far more than himself.

"It was in the drawer of the desk in the library," Jace said, his face grim, "How it got there, I don't know."

Had Simon still been human, he would have shuddered, "Do you think that somehow, Sebastian got in?"

"I'm not sure," Jace thought aloud, "But even if we do assume that he got in, why would he put this in there? What point was there to him, what advantage does this give him?"

"What makes you think he did it for himself, maybe Clary asked nicely and she consented."

Jace snorted, "As if, that bastard won't do anything unless it benefits him somehow."

"You don't know that, maybe Clary's rubbing off on him," Simon said in a light mood, trying to get Jace to ease up. He only shot the vampire a glare.

"Sebastian's a blood thirsty, no offense, sociopath that only does things when they mean something to him. We don't know if he maybe forced Clary to do this, make it seem like she did it, or if he had any other motives." Jace trailed off.

They both leaned over the edge of the roof, neither fearing the tall height, or the risk of falling. Both of them standing in silence, a comfortable one, where they didn't have to say anything to understand each other, they just had to be in each other's company.

"How's your hunger?" Jace asked, out of the blue.

Simon took a few seconds, not used to Jace of all people worrying about him, "I haven't had blood in almost two days, and even that was just some blood bags, I'll have to find more."

Jace raised an eyebrow, "From a live source….."

"NO" Simon protested, "I mean I'll have to find some blood bags or something, I think they're having a blood donation thing tomorrow, and I'll sign up as a volunteer. When they're not looking I'll have a few bags and sneak some with me."

"Just remember that I was a one-time thing, I know I'm irresistible and all, but back off." Jace took on his oh-I'm-so-high-and-mighty aura for a few seconds before it died down. "Isabelle too."

Simon almost got whiplash by how fast his head turned to look at Jace, eyes widening, "She told you?" he asked.

Jace laughed, "So you DID bite her? I knew it, that Isabelle, always looking for something new and dangerous."

Simon resisted the urge to push Jace down the seven story tall building, knowing that the Shadowhunter would simply land on his feet, unharmed. Instead he settled for flicking his forehead with his vampire strength.

"Ouch," Jace rubbed his head with his palm.

They continued to stare out at the city, and Simon could see Jace's hand, slipping into his jacket, and undoubtedly touching the drawing Clary made.

"Hey," Simon told Jace, just before he was about to leave, "you know, it could have just been Clary that sent the drawing, right? And if she did do it, it means that she's okay,"

Jace nodded.

"And that means that she could find a way to escape on her own."

Jace turned his head slightly, his golden eyes piercing in the dark.

"I'm counting on that."

**Lacie: Am I in trouble?**

**Chris: Yes. Very.**

**Clary: Where have you been? And you did not make Chris do all the I Love You's like you promised. **

**Lacie: I have very good reason. 1) school is a drag that drowns me in homework and studying to the point in which I barely have an hour to myself. 2) last week my room flooded (I sleep in the basement) and my laptops charger was on the floor so I couldn't use my laptop and I don't like using our computer because I like typing in my room. 3)I did not expect that many reviews. Seriously. Everyday I was just like, 'WHAT DO YOU GUYS SEE IN ME?' and now I feel like such a bad author for making you guys wait this long, and for this chapter being so terrible.**

**Clary: what about chris…**

**Chris: Clary shut up.**

**Lacie: Chris, wrap it up.**

**Chris: *sighs* can I just randomnly say I love you? I'm going to do that**

**I love you d, I love you Guest, I love you GingerDivergent, I love you Rachel, I love you ShadowWalkerxX, I love you Destiny, I love you forevaevaafta, I love you awesomealways, I love you Molly m caleenan, I love you guest, I love you georgie.**

**Clary: That's not fair, some of the first people got better I love you's**

**Lacie: LACIE IS VERY TIRED, IT IS VERY LATE AND SHE WANTS TO GO TO BED.**

**Chris: Oh no, her caps lock is broken.**

**Clary: Before Lacie throws a tantrum, thanks you guys for reading, we'll post the next chapter whenever its ready, DON'T lose hope, we'll always work hard on the next chap even though it seems like we'll take forever.**

**Chris: Review!**


	11. Two demons at the Caribbean

**Lacie: *sitting on the couch lazily whilst her feet are atop the coffee table, a bowl of popcorn on her lap while watching Nikita on Netflix***

**Clary: *sitting next to her, cross legged, with a sketch book in hand, drawing ninja girls with throwing stars***

**Chris: …..why are you wording out everything we're doing?**

**Lacie: *very lazily* because sometimes I wonder if people actually read these starting intro's, so I'm gonna take it easy this time. *throws popcorn in the air and catches it with her mouth***

**Chris: But, what about the thank you's, the disclaimer… the usual junk?**

**Clary: We'll do it, next chapter….*looks up at screen and sketches some more* **

**Chris: *internally sighs and then stops abruptly* oh gosh now I'm doing it, I have to get out of here before I become like you guys. If you need me I'll be out hunting demons and whatnot, but before I go, thanks to all the people that reviewed and have been reading up to this point, Lacie may be lazy right now but she actually does care, something that even I can notice.**

***glances at Lacie, who has failed to get a popcorn into her mouth and is staring at it on the ground, determining whether or not it's worth it to get up and pick it off the floor* **

**Anyways…..As for the usual, Lacie-Abyss does not own the Mortal Instruments, but she does own white-haired, or I guess, whitish redish haired Clary, and Chris. But I'm not Chris right now, I'm Sebastian. Bye guys.**

***kills some nasty looking demons things***

**Enjoy!**

**Clary POV**

Even with her demon like thinking, Clary still found it very uncomfortable to wear a bathing suit.

They were on a small island in the Caribbean, in which Clary could not help but think of Jack Sparrow, in a rather empty beach. Chris said that there was a larger island not too far them, and true, at the edge of land in which she stood, letting her toes get wet by the incoming waves, she could see land in the distance. She bet she could even make it if she swam, if there were no sharks.

_Are there sharks? _She absently wondered, _Well, sharks only swim in salt water, the Caribbean is one of the largest salt water seas in the world, but I doubt that I will actually make any encounters with sharks, maybe I should ride in a boat just in case…_

"Clary!" the call brought Clary out of her thoughts as she turned away from the lapping water and faced her attention towards Chris, who was jogging towards her. He was barefooted, kicking up sand as he passed by, wearing a tight black shirt that was blinding in the sun, and black jeans that were rolled up to his ankles.

He looked sort of out of place, like the beach wasn't his thing. Granted, he did have the blonde white hair of a foreigner, and his pale skin screamed that he didn't necessarily spend the day out in the sun, but he seemed like he was enjoying himself.

She walked towards him, slowly, and they met halfway. The sun was to his back so she had to squint and look up at him when she said, "What's up? Why are you wearing jeans? It's a beach, you're going to fry in those things."

Chris snorted, "Says the girl who's wearing an overly large hoodie," he took the hoodie in his hand and rubbed the fabric between his fingers, "What's wrong, all the bathing suits aren't to your taste?"

Clary stepped away, looking back at the sea behind her casually, but really she was trying to hide her blush. She found a nice looking two piece, a bikini really, but she was too embarrassed to walk around in it. Before she left her room, she was giving herself a huge pep talk, telling herself that no one was on the island, that it was just her and Chris, it was no big deal, but in the end, she lost to her herself and ended up grabbing a huge green hoodie that was in the drawers and throwing it on. The hoodie went past her mid thighs, revealing her white, thin chicken legs.

It had actually taken a lot of courage to not wear some pants too.

"I don't really wear bathing suits, I've never been to the beach before." She admitted, without actually telling the whole truth about the matter. It was something she didn't have to reveal.

"Suuurree," he dragged out the word. "If you say so."

He turned away from her, and started walking down the beach, along the line in which the sea was just barely touching the sand. Clary looked at him, and suddenly an urge hit her that she just couldn't resist.

Running along with him, she stood by on his left, so that to his right was the sea. She walked a couple of paces with him, noticing his smug look. _Probably thinks that I caught up to him because I didn't want to be alone. _Clary thought, _Well think again…_ As soon as a wave came crashing onto the shore, Clary used all her strength, demonic kind including, and side pushed him into the water.

"What the he-!" He was caught off as he lost his footing when Clary shoved him again, making him land on his butt into the water, the wave coursing over his neck and close to his face. Clary giggled, and half expected Chris to give her an evil glare, to curse her.

She was very surprised when he played along, and pulled her down into the water with him, going farther out, so even when she stood up, the waves would go almost to her chest. They splashed around in the water, thought Clary could see that Chris's jeans were weighing him down, and his T-shirt had stuck to his chest, but the water made it inflate and bob up and down. Clary laughed and told Chris he looked fat, and he tripped her underwater, making her go under, blowing bubbles through her nose.

She was pulling down on her sweatshirt in vain, the water causing it to float up dangerously to her hips, which would reveal the swimsuit she did not want to be seen in. But she didn't go back up to surface, instead, she pulled her knees to her chest, and exhaled all the air from her lungs, making her body sink down. She could feel the water carrying her out, enjoying the flow of it, and she knew that when she eventually came up for a breath, the shore would be farther away than when she started.

It didn't bother her though; she could swim as well as the next person, even with a hoodie weighing her down. She could feel Chris following her, wondering what she was doing, if she needed his help. But she was fine, she just wanted to do this. It was a nice thing to do, for her. She enjoyed the feeling of not doing anything and just letting the world around her move.

Chris's presence appeared on her left, but she could feel that he was on his tiptoes now, his head barely above the water. They must be getting farther out. Clary still didn't feel her lungs giving out yet. Chris was floating to her, keeping his hands close to her, and Clary wondered if he knew what she was doing, if he understood her weird urge.

Chris seemed different to her now.

She found it hard nowadays that the Chris she saw now, was the same Chris, the same Sebastian, that she had feared, hated, despised above all things. The sole being that continued to haunt her after her father had practically crashed himself into her life, ruining everything. How could it be that after all she's gone through, because of that, she could do this?

A rock of guilt sank itself into her conscious, as she thought of Isabelle, Alec, the Lightwoods, and how they'd react to her if they were to ever discover her being on a beach with the man who killed their smallest child. And of Jace, when she thought of the kiss that she and Chris had exchanged, and the worst part, it wasn't against her will, she had totally and one hundred percent accepted it. Another ton of rock slipped into her stomach, seeming to weigh herself down even more, as she sank further down.

The water around her seemed to have cleared her head of the fog that had muddled her thoughts ever since she first arrived, to layer of protection that she had originally placed to protect herself from the pain she would feel from missing her family, from having to stay with Chris. But that layer of defense had turned into one from Chris into one from herself, she shelled herself, pulled herself away from everything that would worry her, from all the guilt that she knew she would feel had she begin to actually get along with Chris.

And she was, Chris never threatened her, never hurt her intentionally, and she was starting to feel more and more comfortable at home.

She should have been terrified of this, but what was even scarier, was that she wasn't.

What surprised her ever more, was that Chris was changing as well as herself. She could feel it in him, he was getting into her random playings. Yesterday started with paintball, and when they had gotten back, Clary found an X-box, and they played Mortal Kombat for hours after that. She of course never knew how to play the game, it was Simon who loved it, her tactic was to press random buttons and hope for the best, but Chris actually got into it, playing single player while she watched him play just as she would had it been anyone else in the world. Now, when she pulled him into the water, he also played along, and Clary could feel him being the kid that he could never be.

Growing up with Valentine obviously didn't leave room for fun.

Clary felt more pressure in her chest, which she associated at first with her new found guilt, but as she continued to float, she realized it was her lungs, begging for air, so she uncurled herself and pushed her feet against the sandy ground. Her head bobbed above the water, and she wheezed in air, finally aware of her body's lack of oxygen, and was about to start kicking at the water to float, when she felt something touch her knees.

Her instinct was to kick out, her earlier thoughts about sharks bringing terror to her mind, but when she felt the familiar warmth of Chris's demon blood, she relaxed herself, and turned around to face his dark eyes. His head was barely above water, which looked funny to her, like he was beheaded, and Clary blinked out the salt water that burned at her eyes. Chris's hands grabbed her knees, supporting herself up so that her shoulders were above water.

"Clary, you had me starting to think that you would never come back up." He spoke over the crashes of the waves.

Clary coughed some water from her lungs, "I was just seeing how long I could last, I like doing that sometimes."

Chris began slowly hopping backwards, to get a better footing on the ground. He stopped at the point when he could place both feet firmly on the ground, and his shoulder were above water, he had dropped Clary down a bit, but still suspended her. If she tried to touch the bottom her head would go under.

"What are we doing here anyway?" She asked him, kicking her feet around, causing the water to churn and make white foamy bubbles.

Chris shrugged, "Whatever you want to do, it's an empty small island, your call."

Immediately, Clary's mind went back to every pirate and beach movie she had ever seen. She thought of people stranded and making SOS signs with rocks or sticks, or sending smoke signals to get the attention of planes passing overhead. She thought of the way that they learned to start fires, survive in the wilderness and whatnot.

But they didn't have to do that, their house was just inside of the tree line, not visible on the beach, but they knew very well where it was.

"Let's," she offered, "Look for buried treasure."

Chris gave her a bewildered look, "You can't be serious."

She looked at him with total seriousness.

"Okay, so maybe you are."

Clary moved away from him, splashing in the water, and floated on her back, her hair spreading out around her, and slowly swam for shore.

"Hey Chris," she called out, he trudged through the water to her, listening.

"Race ya."

She suddenly turned onto her stomach and began kicking her legs and stretching her arms out in front of her, using all of her strength. She felt a splash not too far behind her, and could feel Chris swimming as fast as he could as well, maybe faster than her. She couldn't even see the shore, not wanting to open her eyes in the water, and relied on her internal navigation. If she felt she was moving too much to the left, she would adjust herself. If a wave came in from behind, she would stop swimming and let the wave carry her to save her strength. Eventually she felt Chris right next to her, though whether or not he was ahead or not she couldn't tell, but several times their arms brushed each other, and their toes kicked.

Clary was surprised when she pulled her arm out in front of her, and felt the sand. She stood up realizing that the water was only up to her thighs, and began to run as fast as she could in the water. She felt a hand grab her from behind and she shrieked as Chris used the force he used to pull her back to launch himself forward. But she wouldn't let him.

Bending her knees, she threw herself at his back, gripping onto his soaked shirt with all her might, and wrapping her legs around his waist and clung to him like a baby koala.

"Hey get off me!" Chris pulled at her hands.

"No! I'm your baby koala! Carry me to safety!" Clary voiced aloud.

"What?" Chris, obviously confused at her sudden exclamation, but stopped trying to pry her off of him.

"Now do what Momma Koala's do, and carry me." Clary smiled innocently.

"Where the heck did this come from?" Chris tried to look back at her from over his shoulders, his face smiling from her crazy nonsense.

Clary smiled largely. She knew what was wrong with her, she sometimes tended to get these random periods of time where she would get so crazy it looked like she ate several sugar sticks, you know, those times where everything is just hilarious.

She felt like that now, as she sucked in a breath and said, "No wait! I don't want to be a baby koala! I want to be a mine turtle!"

"Clarissa, I have no idea what you're talking about." Chris called back to her as he reached the sand and trudged towards the shade of the trees.

"_Mine turtles on the road, mine turtles walking by, mine turtle's got a smile sweet as pie flavored pie!" _Clary sang

"Did you get hit in the head or something Clary?" Chris said as he set her down, as she randomly pointed to him and said, "_Skater kid tell the cop, you can't tell me what to do! Watch out! When mine turtle says hello to you! MINE TURTLE"_

**Writer's POV: Do not own Mine turtle song, not even sure if the lyrics are like that**

Clary started laughing while Chris watched off to the side, unsure of what to do with his sister in this stage. Clary's random state of giddiness died after her laughter though, as she remembered her ton of guilt, but tried to hide it with a smile

"Well?" she asked, getting a questioning look from Chris, "Are we going to look for pirate treasure or not?"

"Oh, so you actually _were_ serious about that."

"Well, no, not really." Clary shrugged, "not like we have a treasure map, or a metal detector, though I suppose we could get one from the house, but that feels like cheating, neither one of us are Jack Sparrow, so we have no clue where to start."

"Jack Sparrow?" Chris asked, his tone obviously meaning 'the heck is that?'

"Oh my bad," Clary corrected herself, watching as Chris's face lit up, ready to receive this new information, "I meant Captain Jack Sparrow." Chris frowned.

Before he could question her further on things that his life preventing him from knowing about, she asked him, "What do you want to do?"

Chris was taken aback, as if no one had ever asked him what he wanted to do before, but he gave the question some thought.

"How about," he started, "we hunt some demons, do some Shadowhunter things." He eyed her, "Could be good for your training too."

She raised one white eyebrow, "There are demons here?"

He rolled his eyes, his lips in a smirk, "Clary, please. In one shape or another, there are demons everywhere."

As soon as they had dried out under the sun, which only took several minutes,(**writer does not know how hot it is in Caribbean throughout the year)**, they trekked into the house, and took weapons from the training room.

Inside the rectangle room, Clary walked near the blades hanging on the support columns that supported the turret that was their training room. Chris, er, Sebastian now, since her as going into demon mode, was tying a weapons belt around his waist, searching for one that would fit Clary, as she looked through what she would like.

She had taken the necessary and obvious needs, a stele and several seraph blades, but the many ornate knives drew her attention unlike before. In particular, a six inch, emerald green blade, with a five inch black hilt, red thread embedded in the hilt, making criss crosses. It was just above her reach, so she couldn't take it in her hands. She might have not noticed it before, but the blade called out to her demon like instincts, the color green satisfying her eyes.

She reached out for it again, standing on her tiptoes, the hilt only mere centimeters from the tips of her fingers, and she willed herself to stretch as far as she could, arching her back as if she could make her spinal column increase a few inches. She didn't want to jump for it, in fear of missing and cutting herself by mistake on the many blades.

Suddenly, another hand appeared in her vision, a pale hand with long fingers, fingers that looked like they were meant to create art. The hand wrapped itself around the black hilt of the blade she was trying to reach, and pulled it off the hooks that held it where it was.

Taking it down, Clary stood normally, suddenly feeling warmth at her back, she would've jumped in surprise, but didn't, and turned around to see Sebastian's chest not two inches from her nose. Tilting her head up, she stared into Sebastian's black, deep eyes, where the knife's point was to his temple.

"Interested in this?" he asked, putting the blade underneath her chin.

Clary, ignoring her pounding heart at the close proximity, brought her hand up and wrapped it around the part of the hilt he wasn't holding.

"Actually, yes." He let go of the hilt, allowing herself to step back and examine it.

"Well, if you want it, you can use it." He said.

Clary smiled a little, already liking the way the knife fit in her small hands. Already imagining all the things she could do with it, because for some reason, she felt like she would never get hurt as long as she had the knife.

"I'll take it." She was about to face him again, when she felt his hands go around her waist as he tightened the weapons belt. She was still wearing the green hoodie, and he was still wearing his black shirt and dark jeans. She pulled the seraph blades from the hoodie pocket, and put them into the belt, as well as her stele, and her new knife. Sebastian handed her a couple more seraph blades, telling her the names of them as he stuffed them in.

He had weapons similar to her, only instead of her emerald knife, he had a long machete strapped to his back. When Clary gave it a look, he answered, "This is for the foliage, I prefer seraph blades when gutting open a demon." His eyes twinkled with a malice that Clary could feel was reflected in her own eyes.

They had to wait though, obviously they did, because demons were more likely to appear in the nighttime, though it meant that Clary had to go through her episode, in which she cringed on the training room floor while Chris held her in his lap again, talking her through it. She felt like she was starting to handle it, but at the same time she wasn't. It was hard to explain, though she could have sworn the pain got worse each day, it was like she was going up a level, like nothing could hurt her unless it was as painful as what she went through. The hour hand was now at a seven, an entire week with her rune had gone by. Meaning five more days were left.

By now, Clary had a feint idea of what the image being tattooed onto her skin by her own black blood was, but the image was strange, like it was a connect the dots picture, only without the dots to show where the lines go, only a few lines here and there. Either way, she wouldn't have any clue as to what it was until it was done.

They were armed and ready. As soon as it was dark, they walked under the starlit night, the sound of ruffling plants around them, though they tried to be as silent as possible. Clary automatically became in tune with her senses, her eyes scanning, her ears picking up sound, her hand close to her weapons belt, ready to whip out a stele or blade if the need came to use it.

It was strange how the night was able to show a whole different part of the world. Growing up, her mother had tried to tell her, that there was absolutely nothing to be afraid of at night, that it was just like the day, just without the sun. It's what parents told their children, and what people try to convince themselves of, but as a Shadowhunter, that was impossible. The night was when creatures from hell revealed themselves, the patterns of the world flipped, showing contrast to all the promises daylight gave.

_This is what being a Nephilim is about_, Clary thought with a surge of pride, _Becoming a warrior in the dark to defend those who can't see it in the day._

Sebastian walked in front of her, all sense on high alert. They didn't do much talking, all communication done by a subtle nod or glance in a direction. He would cut down large branches of leaves with his machete, allowing her to step over the destroyed foliage. Every once in a while he would glance back, just to make sure she was keeping up, but she was never more than two steps behind him.

They walked on like this for about an hour, both of them deep in their concentrated minds, focusing on all that was around them. The island seemed to carry a feint warm breeze that did nothing to cool the sweat that had formed on Clary's forehead, but if she inhaled deeply, she could taste the salt from the sea in the air. Little insects buzzed here and there, but otherwise everything was unnaturally empty.

A little too empty.

Sebastian seemed to hear her thoughts, for he stopped suddenly, causing her to almost walk right into him.

"Man, this place is actually pretty deserted." He said, almost sadly, like he really wanted some action. Clary found it both surprising and natural that she felt the same. She wanted to feel the high of battle, the fact that everything slowed down when you were in action, when a choice you made in a split second can ultimately decide the fate of a fight.

She sighed, making Sebastian look over his shoulder at her, "So what do we do? Keep looking, or go back home?"

Sebastian answered instantly, "Let's keep going."

Clary hid her relieved smile behind a shrug, "If you want."

They continued walking, but the silence this time put a nail in Clary's nerves, so she tried to keep a conversation going, "What type of demons do you think we'll find here?"

Sebastian spoke, not looking back, but Clary could hear a smirk in his voice, "Does it matter, as long as they're strong, and in numbers."

This should have terrified her, but instead, it sent sparks of excitement going through her veins, and she found herself nodding at his words.

"Did you used to do this a lot before?" Clary suddenly asked.

"What?" Sebastian said, looking over her shoulder as he held back a long branch for her to pass by. Ducking under it, she walked into a small circular clearing, only about three feet in diameter. There was a clearing in the tree leaves above as well, leaving the moonlight to be able to come down clearly, and not filtered like amongst the plants. She stood in the center, and faced him.

"Like, before," she made a general gesture to everything around her, "all this happened, before Valentine found Jocelyn, before he started all this," she found it hard to open her mouth again, and swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. "What would you do in your time?"

Sebastian's eyes were dark, demon dark, but they weren't looking at her, they were looking at his past, at what he had grown up with.

Slowly, as if unsure of how much to tell her, he started, "Clary, I've done a lot of bad things," he stopped, waiting to see if she would say anything, but she only nodded, suspecting as much.

He continued, "Valentine supervised me, watched over as I trained, mostly, mostly, when I was, younger." Clary tried to picture a child version of Sebastian, the small, infant form of the tall, strong being in front of her. She couldn't. "Being what I am, he put me to test many times, having me perform dangerous things. Sometimes purposely bringing out the monster in me," he hesitated, something she'd never seen him do before, "I was alone a lot, something that was not good for me, being alone with yourself in my conditions was not ideal. It gave me a lot of time to think, to give into myself. Valentine, he told me everything, well, not everything, but a lot more than what he would tell most people. He told me all about Jace, his 'golden boy,' and all I would do while he was gone was train. I would train as soon as awoke, I ate, then Valentine would teach me some stuff, then I would train some more. And whenever he was gone, I would train again, on my own."

His gaze went up to the sky, to the half-moon that was hidden behind clouds, "I remember night like this, when I would just walk around an empty field, and kill everything in sight." He closed his eyes.

Clary waited a few seconds, and even though she built up her courage, her voice was still a whisper, "What about you and Valentine, how…..how close were you two?"

Sebastian's eyes opened, glassy, like they no longer saw what was in front of him, "Like I said, we talked, but mostly on our plans," his fists clenched together, "I may have worked with him, but he was cruel, he was my father, but cruel."

Clary's mind went back to a day, when she saw Sebastian's exposed, and scarred back, whip mark after whip mark. Her small fists clenched as well, suddenly hoping that Valentine was burning wherever he was right now. She was about to say so out loud too, but seeing the look on Sebastian's face, she changed topics, one she was particularly curious about.

"How did you learn about me?" She asked, getting his attention, "I mean, Valentine didn't know about me right? Until he looked for Jocelyn."

Sebastian looked her in the eyes, and Clary kept the contact, but soon she felt very uncomfortable, and subtly turned to the side.

"One day, Valentine returned to our house, he said that he had brought back someone important." Clary looked back at him, but he was no longer looking at her, "When I walked into the room, I saw her, Jocelyn, and he explained who she was. I already knew who she was, but I never saw her in person."

Clary wanted to ask if that meant that he'd seen in pictures, maybe Valentine had kept some, and showed them to his son, but preferred to not stray from the subject.

"Then, he told me, that I had a sister, as simple as that, he said it as though he were talking about what we were going to have for breakfast, like it didn't even matter. But I could tell he was angry, at Jocelyn. I didn't stay with Valentine too long after that, I had other things to do, but whenever I had the chance, I would ask about you." He looked at her, almost shyly, like he was embarrassed to admit this, but Sebastian wasn't embarrassed, "I asked what your name was, what you looked like, were you anything like me. I just, I just needed to know, if there was anyone in the world like me."

He stepped towards her, hands twitching, like he wanted to have her right then and there, and Clary didn't know if she'd have the power to stop her if he tried, or if she would have the mindset to do so.

"I wanted someone like me, and now there is." Cupping her cheek, he leaned down to her, closing the distance between there lips.

_Snap._

In a second, they sprang apart, hands at their belts, eyes scanning the area around them, searching for movement.

_Snap. Snap. _The breaking of twigs, very feint, but they had heard it.

Clary looked at their position and internally cursed herself. They were in an uncovered space, where they would be easily spotted. She tried getting Sebastian's attention, but the look in his expression showed her that he wanted this.

Why come for the demon when they could wait for the demon to come to them?

Her vision roamed around, looking for every shadow, when she saw something flicker to her left. Drawing out a seraph blade, she walked towards the shadow, feet light in her step, not making a sound. She could feel Sebastian coming behind her.

Before she could even step out of the clearing, the shadow lunged at them, fangs and claws aiming for her head, as she ducked and rolled out of the way.

Standing up right, at the edge of the clearing, she saw the shadow, which stood in the center of the light, taking up all the space and extending outside of the clearing. It stood on four, muscled legs that looked like a mix of feline claws and bull legs. The body was lean, like a cheetah's, only three times bigger. The head was shaped like a fox, only a forked, barbed tongue slid out from between two fangs the size of Clary's forearm, and snake eyes blinked in their sockets.

It sniffed the air, both with its nose and by flicking its tongue in the air, and focused its serpent like vision on them.

Clary saw it coming before it actually moved, she sidestepped to the left, feeling the disturbed air as the demon soared right by her, and she quickly turned, about to plunge her lit seraph blade into the demons back.

Sensing her, the demon jumped, crashing through plants, and Clary wondered how on earth they hadn't heard it before, such a large thing would be so clumsy in this thick forest of palms and leaves.

Sebastian was right next to her, and she heard him whisper, "Ezekiel," as the blade glowed, and he jumped forward, slashing at the beast so fast that if it weren't for her demon eyes, she wouldn't have caught the movement.

The demon roared, a sound that scraped at her ears, making her want to claw it out of her head, and struck at him, but he dodged it easily. Clary lifted her own glowing seraph blade, joining him, she made three quick swiped at the beast, getting it twice before it lunged at her. She ducked, sliding on the ground, and stabbed the thing from behind.

It was a bad move. Sebastian had been in front of the beast, and the sudden attack from Clary made it jump forward, taking Sebastian in its grip. He fell on his stomach, blade skittering from his grasp, and Clary thought she heard the sound of bones cracking. How strong was this demon?

The demon looked down at him, from where its claws pinned him to the ground, and before she could react, it stuck out its tongue and licked Sebastian's back.

Sebastian groaned. The demon had a barbed tongue, and when Clary turned to see, she saw the demons tongue drip black blood, where it had scraped through his shirt, and through skin.

The demon must have not liked the taste of its own kinds' blood, for it spit the blood onto the ground, obviously not daring to take another try. But Clary's blood was boiling with rage, she picked out two more blades, and lighting both of them up, she rammed the thing through before it even noticed her moving.

As a final touch, she took out her emerald blade, and sank the thing to the hilt into the beasts flank.

Roaring in pain, the demon disappeared, and before it dissolved into demon dust, Clary pulled out the blade.

Kneeling next to Sebastian, er, Chris, she carefully touched his back, which was oozing with blood.

He tried to stand up, against her wishes, but he did.

"How do you feel?" she asked, wincing at her own question. Of course he felt bad.

"Like a two ton demon landed on me," he responded, "I could use an iratze."

"Well, I do make the best of those," she said, trying to lighten up the mood.

She walked behind him, facing his back, and as he straightened out completely, his shirt ripped all the way down, falling off his back and hanging down his chest.

In the bright moonlight, Clary could see all of his scars, each and every individual whip mark as it rose on his skin. The new wound, was a scrape, skin hung at the edges , clinging by sheer will. Thick drops of black ran down his back, dripping onto the ground. Clary placed one hand on his shoulder, to steady herself, and the other propped and ready with a stele. She drew the iratze on his right shoulder, feeling him suppress a sigh as it quickly worked through his body. Already she could see the edges of his wounds closing up, and the sealing itself, and Clary stood for a few minutes, hand still on his shoulder, while Chris shuddered as the rune worked its wonders.

Soon, the wound was a small, unnoticeable line, and then faded into nonexistence. Clary pulled her green hoodie over her hands, and wiped the black blood that was still on his back with the sleeve.

Chris, feeling the wound was closed, turned around to face her, tearing off the remainder of the cloth that hung uselessly on his arms.

"Thanks," he said, "I'm sorry you had to see that." His eyes softened as he mentioned his scars.

Clary felt a pinprick of rage, at the person who caused the scars, Clary shook her head, "Don't feel sorry."

Chris tried his best, suddenly aware of the fact that his back was exposed, to block her view from it.

Suddenly, before she could change her mind, Clary put her hands at the edge of the hoodie she was wearing, and pulled it up and off of her. If Chris had to reveal what he didn't want to be seen, then she was no exception.

Chris was confused at her first but then his eyes widened at her. She was wearing a two piece swimsuit, it was blue and green, the bottom part was shaped like panties, and had one blue bow at the sides at her hips. The top was frilly, hiding her lack of chest, but suited her nicely. Most of her was bare, and Clary had to fight the blush that was about to take over her face, because really, swimsuits are like bras and panties, only waterproof.

She raised her voice, "Chris, turn around."

"Clary I said that I don't-"

"You choose now to become a shy demon? I don't think so," she interrupted him, "turn around, I mean it."

Giving her a long look, he slowly turned his back to her. The moonlight hit it at just an angle, one that caused shadows from the raised scars to run jaggedly across his skin, making it look like he had gaping black long cracks around him. It was a maze of interlocking skin, and Clary found herself tempted to touch the maze. Tracing a line of whip mark, she trailed her index finger along his back.

Her touch surprised him at first, he had recoiled at her the contact of her hand on him, but as she soothingly continued, he relaxed, releasing a sigh as she stood there, under the moonlight, gazing at his unique back.

A lot of girls would think that they were imperfections, that they ruined him. They would laugh at him, become revolted by his back, but she thought it was what made him, him. It should what he had overcame, and Clary felt a strange warmth flow through her heart, as she realized that many people would come to see Chris the way she saw him.

"I know, it's hideous, I disserved many of these scars, but I'm not ashamed of it Cla-"he started, as if he thought that she was judging him, pitying him.

She didn't let him finish again, "One day, you're going to let me draw you, understood?"

"Draw me?" he asked, perplexed.

"Mhm," she nodded, her eyes glued to his back, trailing the scars now on his lower back, close to his arch. She spoke out of all honesty, "I don't think this is hideous, it beautiful, all on its own. And anyone who can't see that is stupid."

Clary wasn't finished tracing the scars yet, when he abruptly turned around, and she only caught a glimpse of his heated eyes, full of lust, when she felt his lips come down on hers.

He placed one hand cradling her jaw, fingers digging into her hair, grabbing the back of her hair, the other hand was pushing her back, pressing her to him. His warm hand in her bare skin, and Clary at first was frozen, her eyes automatically having closed, and she stood paralyzed. But then the demon within her unleashed itself, taking over her frozen mind and tearing down any wall she had that prevented her from doing just this.

She responded to him, moving her hands up and around his neck, pressing closer to him, and she felt him gasp against her lips, as he rushed on, using more force, hard enough that it would have hurt her, but it didn't. He held her even closer, practically picking her up, grabbing her by the thighs and lifting her up, and she complied by wrapping her pale legs around his waist. He was kissing her neck now, nuzzling it, she placed her face in the crook of his neck, feeling all sorts of electricity going through her veins.

Everything just felt _so right. _In the midst of this, she remembered Sebastian saying that they were one and the same, and she remembered that she had rejected him, saying that it was impossible.

She saw how wrong she had been, how they were practically meant to be, her demon side urging her forward.

_More, more, _it begged,

_No, _a small whisper pleaded at the back of her mind, making the demon groan, _Stop this! Stop!_

_Just a little more! Go away, let this be, let it happen! _The demon roared.

The small whisper grew stronger, as if it took a step forward, _No, get out, go back to where you were._

_Let me be! This is what is supposed to happen! _The demon argued.

_You're nothing more but a pest that has infiltrated my mind, now get out of my space you damned filthy creature!_ The whisper was no longer so quiet, and the demon searched for the shadows to see where it was coming from.

_You think you can win a fight against me?_ The demon growled.

But before any mental war could occur, Chris pulled back, and asked a question that silenced both voices, and the demon temporarily retreated. For now.

"Clary, do you miss your home, your family, your friends?" he looked at her in the eyes, though his eyes were still glassy and kept trying to roam her body.

It caught her off guard, and she stuttered in answering, "I try not to think about it, but if I were to, then," she looked over his shoulder, and slowly began pulling away from him, putting her feet on the ground, building back the walls the demon tore down.

"Yes, if only a little, but yes," looking at her feet, "I do miss my family."

Chris stared at her, she could feel his gaze on her while hers was glued onto the ground, afraid of what she would find if she looked up, slightly jarred at the sudden changes of atmosphere around them.

If Clary didn't think he could continue to surprise her, she was wrong. In a clear voice, with absolutely no hesitation, he said, "If you want, I could get a message sent to them, telling them how you're doing, that you're okay, you could even write it if you want. I won't read it."

Clary' eyes snapped up, incredulous, she stared with wide eyes, "You'd, you'd do that? Really? You trust me?" To write a letter to her family, to the Institute, and he wouldn't read it, it sounded unreal. But he said it with unwavering eyes.

"Well, of course, I'd feel wary of what you write, but I think I can trust you to not write anything too, revealing." He looked at her, his expression going deep, "but if it makes you happy, and more at peace, then I'll do it."

Clary felt burning coming from behind her eyes, and she didn't realize until Chris had wiped at her cheek with a finger that she was crying, tears running down her face and splashing onto the ground.

Wiping at her face, she muttered, "sorry, I don't want to cry."

Placing his arm across her shoulder, he pulled her to his side, and stroked her cheek, cleaning more tears, "it's okay, you can cry."

She sniffed, "Damnit, I hate crying."

Chris suddenly swept her off her feet, carrying her bridal style. They started walking back home, and Clary realized that she was very tired.

"Sleep," he whispered, "I'll carry you all the way home."

She tried to stay awake as long as possible, but her heavy eyelids betrayed her, and the last conscious thought she could remember, was that it felt so warm, so nice, when you could rely on someone else to carry you through things.

**Lacie: DISENGAGE LAZY MODE**

**Chris: Thank you, for a second I thought I'd have to do this too.**

**Clary: Oh no, if we did that this whole thing would crumple to the ground.**

**Chris: It would be a beautiful crumbling.**

**Clary: My crumbling would be much more interesting and entertaining.**

**Lacie: Let's not talk about my work crumbling to the ground, shall we?**

**Clary & Chris: k**

**Lacie: So, what did you guys think? How about some happy comments on the fact that I reviewed in less than a week?**

**Chris: I KISSED CLARY**

**Clary: demon, white haired clary did that. Red head clary has nothing to do with this**

**Chris: You just don't want to admit that you liked it ;P**

**Clary: yes, because I adore the taste of nasty demon on my tongue**

**Chris: CLARY LIKES MY SCARS**

**Clary: Demon Clary does!**

**Lacie: Anyway guys, thanks for reading, now go ahead and click that beautilovely button that says 'Review' say something, reviewy, and I'll get back to you guys with a nice new chapter soon! **

**Clary: Hopefully**

**Chris: Maybe**

**Lacie: yeah….. BYE!**


	12. White Haired Demons

**Lacie: Welcome back to my strange world everyone**

**Chris: you got the strange part right**

**Clary: So how have you been?**

**Lacie: I am tired and mad and upset because of school.**

**Clary: Particular reason?**

**Lacie: No….. it's just…. School….bfiureiuvburbval *hate***

**Chris: What's so wrong about school?**

**Clary and Lacie: *gasp*! HE KNOWS NOTHING**

**Chris: WILL SOMONE FOR ONCE EXPLAIN THESE THINGS TO ME**

**Lacie: *Ignores* Yeah, anyway, I'm sorry it's been so long, I hope you all forgive me, I really hope the last chapter was enough for me to go this long without updating, and really, I'm sorry. I've been reading all of your reviews though! And just let me say, I love all of the people who review, I really do, and I try to respond to everyone who I can, but some of you are only guests, so I can't send my love, so now I got all this pent up love that I gotta throw out all over this intro cause I have nowhere else to put it.**

**Chris: Thaaaaaat's kinda gross**

**Clary: TMI**

**Lacie: Too much information?**

**Clary: No, The Mortal Instruments. Which, by the way, you don't own.**

**Lacie: Sadly :C**

**Enjoy!**

**Clary POV**

In Clary's dream, she was five years old. She didn't think anything of it though, it was weird how dreams were like that, something was off about them, you knew they were, but you dismissed them, like they were nothing. She was in a park, swinging back and forth on a swing set, her little bare feet digging into the sand underneath her that made up the play area. Her surroundings were distorted, the way they usually were in a dream, she couldn't see too far into the distance, because her dream consisted only of a few feet around her. The swings and a monkey bars attached to a looping slide. That was it.

She had her normal red, curly hair, and green eyes. She didn't know how she knew that, she just did.

The sound of rusty chains of the swing screeched as she went back and forth, higher and higher. There was no sky, only a black haze around and past what she could see, in which she thought she could see movement just beyond it. She was in a prison. Little Clary didn't mind though, she was fine, a prison wasn't a prison of you enjoyed yourself, right?

The swing was going so high, that her toes reached the top of the black haze in the dome around her. She immediately withdrew her foot; the haze was cold, and slimy, and she felt like if she went in too far, she'd lose herself. Despite that, she was curious.

She jumped off the swing, slowly falling, as if through honey, and barely felt the impact of meeting the ground. Stepping to the edge of her playground, she inched her fingers closer to the edge of the haze, tentatively at first, before she plunged it all the way to her elbow.

She felt nothing, just cold, emptiness, but also a draft, as if there was something beyond the haze. But before she could do anything about it, she felt a hand wrap around her wrist, tightening around it, so strong that little Clary wondered if her hand would be broken. It was strange that she felt the pain though, because nothing else hurt here. Clary fought against it, terrified that the hand would pull her through, into the strange and unknown haze, where she didn't know anything about, but the hand didn't, in fact, it seemed to be pushing her in, preventing her from coming further out of the black dome.

Testing her theory out, she slightly pulled inward, and found that the hand didn't release her, but didn't try to stop her from moving in. But when she tried to go out, the hand kept her firm in place, not allowing her to move out.

Little Clary was upset; why could she come in, but not out? Was there something better than her little playground out there, and someone didn't want to share? She continued to push herself forward, even stepping her feet into the fog, sticking her face in it, put the hand, gripping her still, shoved her back, unrelenting. Frustrated, little Clary was very mad at whoever this was, who did they think they were?

Suddenly determined, she pulled inward with as much as her mind would allow, yet in reality, it was agonizingly slow, like pulling something out of quick sand. She pulled until her hand was out of the fog, and she could see the hand around hers, and she squinted at the fingers clasped around her skin. Small, thin, pale, with chipped nails, like the person bit on them all the time. The person had callouses on her fingers, and on the pad of her thumb, as if she spent a lot of time drawing.

How did Little Clary know this? She didn't bother to wonder.

She continued to pull, and pull, until a whole body was standing right in front of her, and until she had finished pulling, Clary hadn't worried about who it was. Now, she stared at the figure that loomed not so much taller than she already was. White hair fell straight down her shoulders almost to her elbows. Her pale face smiled maliciously, black eyes slicing through little Clary's startled green irises.

_No, No, _Little Clary thought, or at least she thought that she thought it, it was so hard to tell. _She's not supposed to be here!_

The white haired girl leaned down, white teeth, pale face, white hair, contrasting so much to the black area around her. Her grip on Clary's wrist would have shattered her bones.

"You're not supposed to be here!" This time Little Clary knew that she was screaming.

The white figure laughed, a sound that was too familiar, too close.

To close to her own.

The white girl put her other hand gently on Clary's throat, her fingers feeling the pulse that would have been there.

"Oh, I'm not?" The girl mused, "Well then, maybe this'll teach you to stay put, where you belong, you've been venturing out into the open a little too much. Why don't you shut up and sleep for a bit?"

"I've been fighting you! I can beat you!" How did Little Clary know this? How did she know this figure?

The girl frowned, her features looking icily beautiful, "Now then, hasn't anyone ever taught you to respect your elders?"

Clary suddenly gasped, as the girl plunged her fingers into her throat, ripping it from the inside out.

How did she know this girl.

Because it was her. It was Clary.

She awoke screaming, her throat dry, and scratchy, as if she'd been screaming for some time now.

She sat up, immediately throwing the covers of the bed off of her, the heat too hot for her. Cold sweat rolled down her back and face as she gasped for air. Her hand went automatically for her throat, memories of her nightmare fading from her mind, but the terror was still there, but when her eyes caught sight of her own hand coming towards her, she recoiled, the sight of her own hand ripping her throat out disgusting her.

Clary looked out at her window, the sun's weak morning rays still stretching out across the navy blue sky, the stars still fading out. It was early, earlier than she had expected, but she knew she wasn't going to be able to sleep again. At least not today.

Her breaths were still shaky, trembling in her chest before coming out, and she could feel her fingertips shaking.

_What was that dream?_

"Clary!" A persistent knocking came from her door as Chris's voice called to her, "Clary what's going on? I heard screaming."

"Just a minute," she tried to say, but her voice died out on her, the words barely hissing through her teeth. She cleared her throat and coughed slightly. "Hold up, I'll be right there," she repeated, and quickly got out of bed, scampering over to the bathroom.

She walked in, splashing water on her face to clear her mind and hopefully erase the rest of the images that still replayed in her mind, but they were foggy now.

_It was just a nightmare, just a nightmare, _she thought to herself, letting cool water spill across her hand, before splashing some on her face. As she reached up to grab the small towel that was on the counter, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror, just to see if her skin was too pale.

She had been expecting what she saw usually nowadays; the strange whitish pinkish hair that was beginning to take the form of actual curls. She still had black eyes, but somehow Clary could feel them changing, below the surface, and what she could see was only an image to make it look like nothing was changing.

But when she saw herself, her heart damn near stopped. Just like it did the first time she saw her reflection a week ago. Straight, snow white hair cascaded down her shoulders, to her elbow, black eyes, _real _black eyes, inside and out, staring at her with malicious power. Clary blinked at the mirror, and her heart went into her throat. Now the figure in front of her had her red, curly hair that was barely past her shoulders. Her green eyes stared back at her, freckles splayed across her face.

She closed her eyes, concentrating on the darkness her eyelids faked. Blood rushed from her head and she felt very faint. Ignoring Chris's calls from outside her bedroom door, she counted to three.

_One, _There's nothing there.

_Two, _It was just a dream.

_Three, _Please.

Black eyes, and straight white hair. And a hand reaching right for her throat-

Clary screamed, and the sound of glass shattering filled her ears.

**Chris POV**

Clary had been screaming.

The instant his mind realized this he took no time in getting to her, but he didn't just barge into her room, though he was holding back every instinct telling him to rip the measly piece of frame that separated him and Clary into firewood.

Standing outside of her door, he could hear the sound of running water, she was in the bathroom, probably freshing up or something. He was just considering whether or not to just go in, he knew for a fact the door wasn't locked, because he had been the one to put Clary in her bed last night in the first place, but he felt like he should give her the space. He wouldn't want her to come into his room like that.

_Well, _Sebastian mused, _Depends on what reason. _Even Chris couldn't help but smile.

Chris wasn't outside the door too long, but it was too long for what she said, and he called out to her, "Clary? If you're still tired or whatever then fine, I'll leave you be. If not, we could go and train or something-"

Clary's voice screamed in a way that made his warm demon blood run cold in his veins, and he would have been frozen had the sound of something breaking not immediately follow afterwards. Almost tearing the doorknob of the door, he practically flew into the room, eyes darting everywhere, looking for Clary. The bathroom. The water had been on, she's in there. He shoved his shoulder against the door and found Clary standing amongst a sea of broken glass. She was staring at where the mirror used to be, her hands limp at her sides, including one that was a bloody mess, broken shards of glass imbedded in her torn knuckles, black drops pouring off her fingertips, starting a pool at her feet.

Her eyes were wide and unfocused, like she wasn't even there, something that he's seen her do plenty of times before, when she likes to slip away into her own world, but this wasn't normal. Her shoulders trembled, and upon hearing Chris break in, she slightly inclined her head toward him, but not before her knees gave way, and she would've had more glass in her legs had Chris not caught her in time.

"Clary, what happened?" He tried to shake some sense into her, but she only clutched at his sleeves, still staring at the broken mirror.

He picked her up, walked out of the bathroom, and set her on the edge of her bed, slightly unsure if she would teeter off, but she held. Taking her hand, he began to pull out the shards of glass in her knuckles, watching for a reaction to the pain she must have felt, but her eyes only twitched whenever he plucked one out.

Taking his stele from his pocket, he quickly drew an iratze, watching as her wounds closed up, and stood in front of her.

"Clary," he said, but didn't get an answer, "Clary, I know you're in there."

Nothing.

He sighed a bit dramatically, "Sheesh Clary, I know you're not that pretty and all, but was it really the mirror's fault you look like this in the morning?"

That brought her back.

She jerked her head at him, her eyes now focused and shooting daggers at him, her mouth twisted into a line, getting ready to say something back for his little comment.

"Excuse me?" she said, "I look exactly the same in the morning as I do throughout the whole day."

"Oh," he feigned understanding, "So you were upset with the mirror because you look horrible all the time? Still not a reason for breaking it."

Clary got up and punched him in the arm with her hand that didn't break the mirror. Yep, she was back.

"I do not look horrible!" she barked.

"Then I see no reason as to why you broke the mirror, you just bought yourself seven years of bad luck, you know." He chided.

She scoffed, "Oh please. That's only a superstition."

"All myths are only truths hidden amongst lies, superstition or not, it came from somewhere. Only a year ago, you thought you were mundane, and that vampires, werewolves and demons were all fake, look at you now, you're best friend's a vampire, your soon-to-be stepdad is a werewolf and your brother is half demon. Can't deny that there's a little truth in everything Clary." He smirked.

Oh no. Wrong choice of words, he should not have mentioned Luke and that vampire friend of hers. For a second, he thought that she was going to slip away again, and she'd get sad, thinking of her family.

_Maybe she'll ask if she can send that letter now, _he hadn't been kidding when he had suggested contacting the Shadowhunters in New York, if only to give Clary the peace of mind she deserved. But still, the gnawing fear that she would say something that could hint on how to find her rotted his insides.

But then again, how could she tell them anything? Even he didn't know where the house would go every time it shifted, so how could they possibly track them. Unless she told them where they were exactly when she knew where their location was, and they happened to know where the place was to be able to open a Portal, there was no way to track them and find them unless they personally marched up the gates of the Institute, and that wasn't about to happen.

He had worked hard to make sure Clary would enjoy herself here, adjusting his personality, which seemed impossible at the time, but whenever she was around him, it happened naturally. He created the magical cupboards where they could get whatever they wanted through them. (First of all, no, Clary cannot escape through the cupboards, because someone has to be outside of the cupboards, imagining where it is she would go. Plus there's magic preventing that from happening. Thanks for catching my flaw guys)He had given her art supplies, and tried to take her places to that she could enjoy her time with him.

However, all of his worries were for nothing, because she only continued to look at him with intense concentration, her hand on her hips, saying, "So all lies have some truth in them? Is that what you're saying?"

Chris internally sighed in relief, "Pretty much. But if I were to say, 'Clary is an impressive Shadowhunter' then no, that is a complete lie, no truths whatsoever."

Her eyes widened, and her mouth made an 'oh' expression, and she sarcastically laughed, "Oh, alright then, I guess if I were to say 'Chris is one of the most hunkiest, smartest, and talented guys in the world' it would be total lie too."

"That's because you're saying it wrong, it's not 'one of the most' it's 'is the most.' Now it's nothing but pure white truth." He chuckled as Clary tried to smack his arm, saying that she was going to take his ego and feed it to demons and then see how confident he was.

"Speaking of feeding," he interrupted her monologue, "It's barely dawn, but do you want to eat something?"

She shrugged, digging her toes into the carpet at their feet, "If you want to," she started walking off to the hallway, "But I'm not making anything, I refuse to make anything for you ever again."

"You're STILL offended by all the teasing I've made at your cooking? Clary that started like ten chapters ago, let it go." Chris mused.

She huffed, her pinkish tipped curls bouncing a bit as she turned on her heel and marched down the hall, ignoring him.

"I want to see what you can make." She announced, fingers trailing against the walls. She was kind of off, like she still hadn't shaken something off, but was trying to put it off. Chris made a side note to keep tabs on her if she continued to act like this.

"You want me to cook?" he asked incredulously. She nodded.

"Not unless you want your eggs burnt to ashes," he commented. He never did learn anything in the culinary arts.

"You can try pancakes," Clary suggested, "Or maybe make me a fruit smoothie, with cinnamon, or maybe some quesadillas, Mexican food sounds nice at this time of the morning, or how about-"

"Cereal it is." He cut her off, making his way to the kitchen to get a bowl.

Clary gaped at him, "You're not even going to try?"

He shook his head, "You know why? Because you just want to make yourself feel by making fun of my cooking."

Clary made a sound now of defiance, before calling over to him from the living room, "Cool story bro, now go make me a sandwich."

"You're getting cereal," he responded, not catching the saying.

**Clary POV**

_One of these days I'm going to have to start explaining all these references I keep making because he's gonna be sooo upset when I don't…_

Clary amused herself by flicking through channels, not really looking for anything in general, just to have something to fill in the silent air around them. She was waiting for when Chris would stop procrastinating and question her actions back in the bathroom, and what exactly happened, and why she did it. In truth, she knew why she did it, but how could she explain that she punched the mirror because she wanted to defend herself, from herself? Or at least, the white haired version of herself. She could no longer recall exactly what happened in her nightmare, bits and pieces that she had been able to think of were evaporating even now, until all she could see was herself, her own white haired, black eyes version of herself.

Her demon self. Trying to kill her humanity.

But why would that happen?

_Isn't it obvious? _Her reasonable voice thought, _You're scared, so far you've been able to suppress Sebastian's demonic influence in your head, but you're starting to let yourself slip… _Images of her and Chris, together, in Saudi Arabia, in the kitchen, under the moon in the Caribbean, swam by her mind's eye, being judged ber her own reasonable voice. _How could you let this happen?_

Indeed, how did she let this happen? At the time while it was happening, it felt like the decision was all Clary's, like she was personally allowing herself to do that, but was it really her, or…..

White hair flashed in her peripheral vision, and it took all her self-control to not lash out at the figure next to her. Chris, extending a bowl of Froot Loops to her, was behind the couch.

_Calm down, _she thought to her heart, which was pounding away like it couldn't go fast enough. Taking the bowl of cereal, she set it on her lap, bringing her knees up to serve as a table. Chris stayed behind the couch, leaning against it, "What are you watching?"

Clary glanced at the screen, "No clue, I was just looking through to see if there's anything interesting." A pause, "What are the cartoon channels?"

Chris gave her a look, before taking the control and pressing a few buttons. Spongebob Squarepants appeared in front of her, and Chris knit together his white blonde eyebrows, "You watch this?"

"Only in the morning, but this one's almost over." She watched as the ending credits popped up.

"What's next?" he questioned.

"I don't kno-" she was about to finish when all of a sudden a young girl's voice sounded from the tv.

"Water, Earth, Fire, Air…." Clary's eyes practically shot out of her skull as she had a fangirl panic attack.

"Aang!" she raised the volume on the T.V, listening as Katara launched into her monologue.

Chris laughed behind her, "Another show I don't know about?"

"It's not just a show! This series affected my childhood so amazingly!" Clary started a whole explanation on the show, not missing a beat, practically repeating what was in the opening lines of the show.

"So…" Chris started, "It's about people who control water, earth, fire and air? That's it?"

"That's it? Do you know how much I dreamed and wished, and hoped, and cried, and, and, begged, that I could be the Avatar!" Clary was ecstatic, "I blamed my mom, telling her that she gave birth to me at the wrong time, and because of that, my birth wasn't timed with the Avatar's death, that's why I wasn't the Avatar. I was so upset."

"Clary these people don't exist-"

"' All myths are only truths hidden amongst lies'" she mocked his tone from before.

"Okay, maybe I said that," he sat down beside her, "But that doesn't mean this," he motioned to the screen, "Is real."

"But, but," she pouted, "What if the people who made the show were influenced by a bender or someone, and they created this show to get everyone who had bender blood in their veins to be called to their original nature. Maybe it's a call to blood!"

"You really just want to be able to do this, don't you?" he asked.

"Yes!" Clary cried.

They watched the show together, it was one where Aang, Katara and Sokka were at the North Pole, and the fire nation was attacking. Yue had to sacrifice herself for the moon spirit, bringing memories and nostalgia to Clary's mind.

Writer's POV: **I'm so sorry for anyone who doesn't like Avatar, or if you don't know what it is, but if that's the case, you should totally watch it. I always seem to be bringing some other thing not involved with TMI into this story into it, aren't I?**

Clary watched as Yue became the moon, her spirit appearing in the sky. Something shifted in Clary's delight though. In the show, Yue is peaceful, as she floats away into the sky, but something in Clary's mind shifted. Suddenly, Yue's white wavy hair, turned into straight, white locks, swirling around like a storm in front of her face, which revealed black, pit, eyes, where Yue's moon colored eyes should have been.

She could feel her heartbeat accelerate again, as suddenly Clary's inner demon was in front of her again, and instead of going away into the sky, it was coming towards her, one hand outstretched, aiming for her throat.

In three seconds, Clary's mind processed the following information: One, that this was just an illusion of her crazy mind and that this wasn't real. Two, it didn't matter if it was real or not, she was freaked out and nothing was going to stop her from getting away. Three, there was a door behind the couch, it was hidden by enchantment, one that only Chris could remove. But Clary was Chris, or at least, she was Sebastian.

How this had barely occurred to her now, she had no clue, it was the instinct to survive that drove her to her limits, she supposed, but that didn't matter now. In her mind, she could almost feel her fingers reaching for her.

She tore out of there. Flinging her bowl of cereal to the side, she jumped off the couch, and almost screamed when fingers brushed against her neck. Going over the couch, she flung herself at the general area of where the door was, and pressed her hand to the wall, trying in vain to remember how it was done.

Just like that, a door appeared in front of her, and without looking back, without acknowledging Chris's screams for her, Clary bolted out of the house, and into who knows where.

**Sebastian/ Chris POV**

At first, he felt nothing. Watching as Clary opened the door to escape from their house, all Chris felt was numb. His mind playing tricks with him, saying that she was only joking, she wasn't really going to just leave.

Then when she was past the threshold, Chris felt cold. She left, she had just gotten up, and left. How long had she been able to do that? Did she know all along?

How did he not realize this. The door would only open to Sebastian, but Clary had his traits, why did he not realize this before?

Had it all been lies? Everything she said before, last night, was it all to get him to not suspect her, to not doubt her?

_To trust her_

Today. She had been acting strange since he first saw her today, had she been planning this? Was she nervous about escaping, and that's why she was acting the way she was? How ignorant of him, to not ask her what was with her, why she broke the mirror in the first place.

_Get up!_ His mind screamed at him, _she's getting away!_ Faster than humanly possible, he dashed through the open door, not bothering to close it. They were deep in a forest somewhere, that was all he had been able to check today. There wouldn't be anyone nearby to find them.

Sebastian leaped over fallen branches, the sky above him was much lighter now, dawn having passed by, the orange colors fading into the common blue sky. He ducked tree limb after tree limb following a trail only visible to him. Clary might be new to this, but she knew what she was doing. Her path was almost completely gone, except for a misplaced things here and there, the slight indention in the grass, the almost unnatural curve of a branch. She was running fast too, as fast as him, because he hadn't gotten sight of her yet.

What was he going to do when he got to her? He didn't know. Part of him wanted to grab her and hold her down tight, make her promise she'd never leave again. Another part wanted to do what he had promised her, that he would send his Demon Shadowhunters out to her family, take back everything he said about sending them a letter. That should show her that she should never double-cross him.

Sebastian smiled. No one would hide from his wrath.

Moving even faster, he ran until everything on the edges of his vision were moving blurs, and he could have sworn that he saw the movement of something white in front of him.

Clary, no doubt about it. She was running fast, fast enough that she could outrun him if she knew how to properly use his abilities. Reaching his limits, he pushed himself, urging his feet to move at a pace he only ever used to run away from a greater demons when he was younger. But that was years ago.

Now he had to use it to catch his sister.

Jumping forward, he wrapped his arms around her waist, bringing them both down to a tumbling halt, both of the receiving scratches and bruised from rolling over rocks and sticks. Clary was on the ground, laying on her back, and Sebastian was pinning her down, and she struggled against him. She even had a long scratch going across her forehead, causing more black blood to drip down. In other circumstances, he would have immediately offered to draw an iratze, but all he felt was white hot fury.

Clary stared up at him, her eyes wide, panicked.

Sebastian released his anger at her, screaming, "Where did you think you were going, huh? Don't you remember? I told you, if you ever left, I would attack your family! Don't think that just because we've been getting along I won't do it Clary!" He would hesitate, but he would do it, if only so that she would have no one else to look to for family. "I'm your brother! I'm family too you know! Are you that desperate to get back to them that you would just run through the front door? How stupid Clary! Clarissa!" You didn't have to run away to your family, you have me.

Sebastian could feel his black eyes burning with anger, anger at her, for making him feel this way. But then again, he wasn't angry at her, he was angry at himself, for allowing himself to feel like this. He was a demon, and demons don't have emotions. Then why did Clary make him feel like this? He'd been hurt before, but never in a way that he would release all his anger into words. "God damnit! Why did you run! Don't you know what I said!"

His inner demon told him to hurt her, make her feel the way he was feeling so that she'd understand. Her face was still an expression of panic, fear, and terror, all in one horrified mixture. She scared out of her mind.

That satisfied Sebastian's hatred. He rubbed his index finger over her cut, taking the blood and putting it on her lips.

In a quiet voice, one where Sebastian ruled entirely, Chris forgotten for a moment, he said, "Don't make me regret deciding to not give you a taste of the Demon cup."

She shivered beneath him.

That's when Sebastian shattered, and Chris resurfaced, he noticed that Clary's eyes kept darting around, and he assumed it was because she was looking for a way out, to escape. But no, she was looking in one general direction. Behind her, from the way she came.

She hadn't been running from him.

But if not him, then who?

"Clary," he said, his voice more gentle this time, despite his words from before, "What were you running from?"

Her eyes met his, wide and frightened, and in a whispery voice that shook his nerves, she said, "Don't let her get me."

"Who?" he asked, her eyes were closing. She was fainting. He shook her, "Clary, who's she? Who's coming to get you?"

Her lips hardly moved as she said, "Me."

**Lacie: *GASP* more struggles?**

**Clary: Wait what?**

**Chris: I see what's going on**

**Lacie: You comprehend the situation?**

**Chris: Completely.**

**Clary: I don't**

**Chris: ….**

**Clary: well?**

**Chris: Well what?**

**Clary: Aren't you going to tell me?**

**Chris: Nope. Consider it payback.**

**Clary: But it's happening to me! I HAVE TO KNOW **

**Chris: Too bad,**

**Lacie: *Off to the side so that Clary doesn't hear* so there's not any confusion, basically, Clary's inner Sebastian is fighting for control over her, and Clary's gotta fight it. So she either beats it, or waits to see if the rune wears off, which, I have yet to reveal…..**

**Clary: LACIE TELL ME**

**Lacie: *ignores* Anyway, sorry again everyone for such a late update, I guess there's really no excuse, but you all know that unless the world ends, I will not just stop updating out of nowhere. I will either tell you when I have to stop, and if I don't it means I'm working on a chapter. But if it takes me a month, then worry. Cause I'm probably, like dead or something. **

**Chris: On that happy note, feel free to review while you're here.**

**Clary: Yeah, you spent your time reading this, so you might as well review!**

**Lacie: WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN**

**Clary : *ignores***

**Lacie: CLARISSA ADELE FRAY!**


	13. A forest and gremlins

**Clary:… **

**Chris:…**

**Clary:…where's Lacie?**

**Chris: I think that's what everyone wants to know….**

***awkward silence***

**Chris: Now, what?**

**Clary: I don't know, what are we supposed to do? This is Lacie's story, she usually does whatever she wants, but now she's not even here to say hi, or thank the reviewers or anything.**

**Chris: Should…..we do it?**

**Clary: Um.. okay?**

**Chris: Alright. I think it's about time to announce that we are over 13,000 views, thought that I should put that out there…Lacie-Abyss doesn't own TMI**

**Clary: Also, thanks to everyone who has been reading so far and who has been checking up recently to see the new chapter. Sorry for the long delay.**

**Chris: But that's not our fault, that's Lacie's.**

**Clary: Not true, it's her teacher's fault, you haven't seen all the work she does every day, it's a miracle she even remembers to update.**

**Chris: Then where is she?**

**Clary: Again, I don't know. But we can't start the story without her, she's the author.**

**Chris: *sudden idea* NO, what if…**

**Clary: *understands*: You don't mean… we could actually run the story!? No Cassandra Clare, no Lacie! No other fanfiction writers that make us go through all this hell!? *starts to joyfully cry out* I'M NO LONGER A SLAVE FOR YOUR IMAGINATIONS TO CONTROL!**

**Chris: I can finally do what I want to do, I don't have to be mysterious and hide all of my secrets, I can finally say-**

**Lacie: MWAHAHAHAH**

**Clary &Chris jump: WHAT THE HELL**

**Clary: Lacie *nervous laugh* how have ya been?**

**Lacie: What's all this about now? Thinking of escaping our little fanfiction world….**

**Chris: You were listening?!**

**Lacie: Lacie is always listening….**

**Chris: *mumbles* that's not stalker-like at all…..**

**Clary: Uumm…. On with the story?**

**Lacie: Yes!**

**Enjoy! (p.s Lacie is not a stalker)**

**Clary POV**

It was the second time that day that Clary woke up after a fitful sleep, and it was only late in the morning.

Feeling a bit jarred, she blinked her eyes, a heavy wool-like grogginess seeming to prevent her from awakening. She felt like she was slowly resurfacing from an ocean of syrup, and it wasn't until she broke through that all her senses truly kicked in.

She stared up, her eyes seeing tree branches crisscrossing each other, causing the light from the sun to come in filtered, shadows streaking across her face. The sky was a mix of clouds, and she could see them moving. She still felt a bit hazy, having little recognition and memory of what happened. She didn't move, feeling like any movement would make her forget, trying to grasp at the images that seemed to have stayed in the syrup ocean which she emerged from, but the thoughts escaped her, and she was left with the sense of fear and terror, though of what she had no clue.

Her awareness expanding, she felt the ground underneath her with her fingers, feeling a cloth, a blanket that did little to prevent the sticks and stones on the Earth from jabbing into her shoulders and back. Attempting to sit up, she felt a sudden throb in her forehead, and slightly eased herself so that she was cross legged.

"How are you feeling?" She quickly looked to her left, causing another throb to flare up, and she winced. Slowly this time, she met Chris's gaze, as he sat on the ground, the picnic blanket beneath her stretching all the way to the base of a tree trunk, where he casually leaned against it, arms folded across his chest.

"I'm fine, I guess," she still felt a fog in the back of her mind, obscuring her of her memories. Looking around them, she saw that her surroundings were pretty much the same, trees everywhere, and a breeze rustling everything up, but it was pleasant.

"Where are we and how long have we been here?" Clary asks him, staring at a squirrel that scampered across the ground.

Chris stretched his legs out in front of him, rather stiffly, as if he'd been in that position for a while now. "We're in some forest, don't ask where, I don't know, but it's pretty secluded, so no one should find us. You've been sleeping on the ground for about four hours, and I was just waiting for you to wake up."

"Four hours?" Clary exclaims, and is met with another throb in her head. Bringing her fingers up, she felt the area where the pain roughly came from, and felt a ridge there where she was pretty certain there hadn't been one before. Looking at her hand, she saw her fingers were covered in dried black blood. "What the…what happened?"

Chris looked at her curiously, and instead of answering, he pulled out a stele from his pocket, "Want me to heal that?"

She was going to nod, but in order to avoid another shock to the head she settled for saying, "Yes."

Coming over to her, he sat cross legged as well, right in front of her. Getting close, he placed his hand on her chin, holding her head in place, while his other hand traced an iratze behind her ear, where her hair could hide it. His hands were warm, as always, and Clary could feel the little hairs on her neck prickle with the slight air of his breath. She felt something sway inside of her, coming from the back of her mind, a heated energy coursing through her veins. It was telling her to get closer to Chris, his blood was calling to her, and like magnets, needed to be pulled together.

But instead of going with what the heat told her to, she traced it back, searching where it came from. It came from the strange, fogged part of her mind, where she knew the memories of what happened only hours ago were hidden. Trying to ignore Chris's fingertips, she willed her consciousness to allow her to open up what was shut out to her, and for a second, she thought she was remembering, it was like a door was opening, and all she had to do was peek inside.

As she drew nearer the image of a small, familiar hand, reached out through the crack in the door, and a shock of memories hit Clary as she immediately recoiled in her mind, blinking as she stared back up at Chris, who was finished with making her iratze.

"You were mumbling in your sleep," he seemed to have been telling her, "You looked pretty upset, and kept saying 'get away, go away.' Do you remember any of it?"

The white, familiar hand that she saw came to mind, and it seemed like it was toying with her, beckoning her to it. How ridiculous, it was her own hand after all. Nothing to be afraid of.

"Nope," she lied.

**Isabelle POV**

Isabelle was freaking pissed.

She really felt like kicking some ass, whether demon or not, anyone who bothered her was about to get a taste of her electrum whip, or a good look at her stiletto heels when she brought them down on their face. Either way, she was not in a good mood.

She had been walking around town for over an hour and still couldn't find the stupid store her mother had sent her to find.

"It's an old shackle," Maryse had explained to her daughter when Isabelle had gone down to the Library. They were about to have another meeting, and Izzy had just been about to draw a rune to be able to listen in when Maryse came around the corner. She knew her daughter really wanted to know what went on, but these type of things weren't for her, so she had to be sent out on errands so that she could keep her nosy self out of it. At least that's how her mother acted like it was.

"Look Isabelle, it's not the sort of place where Shadowhunters are usually allowed, so be careful okay, especially don't try to act too threatening to the owner, try to be as anonymous as possible." That's what she was told.

_Anonymous, sure…._ Izzy thought as she stomped her way down yet another street, her blue heels clicking against the cement, legs covered in fishnets as she wore a tight midnight blue dress that ended at her mid-thigh. She was wearing a short black leather jacket that stopped at the waist, but it was open, revealing the low dip the V-neck of her dress did.

_Please, it would be a sin to try to let myself be anonymous, s_he smiled to herself as yet another wolf whistle pierced the air, reaching her ears. She was in a worse for wear looking neighborhood, and there were men outside staring at her like she was prime steak, but she didn't feel an ounce of fear. She'd cut out their throats before they came anywhere near her.

She did, however, have her red amulet tucked nicely in her jacket pocket, her hand wrapped around it. If she was going to some random black magic store (her mother could deny it all she wanted but face it, she was going to a black magic store) she did not want the owner there setting their eyes on what was hers. Her amulet pulsed in her hand, faintly, as she walked past an alley. _Finally…._

Isabelle wasn't stupid, she knew her mom had only sent her out so that she wouldn't keep sneaking around the Clave, but was it really her fault that she wanted to know what was going on? That she wanted to know about what was being decided about one of her only female friends? That she wanted to help? Clary could be getting dragged to different placed in world so she get tortured along the way, and all they did was have meeting after meeting? She hated the fact that everyone treated her like she was some child that needed to be scolded. She was sixteen, not six! Especially Alec, who felt the need to remind her every day that he was eighteen and she wasn't. She swore, the day she turned eighteen she was going all out, Izzy style, if only to rub it in Alec's face.

Being her age and a Shadowhunter had its advantages, no one from the Clave assumed anything from her, so didn't need to report to them or anything, and she was entitled to do whatever she wanted. The day she turned eighteen would start a bunch of hell and responsibilities that she could even see frustrated even her mother, which made her question why she even cared about the whole thing in the first place.

_Oh, yeah, _she thought, _It was when Alec started being such a show off in the fact that he was considered and adult…._ She didn't care if she was thought of as an adult, as long as she knew what was going on she didn't give two-shits about it.

This whole situation surrounded her little red-haired friend, and she deserved to know about it, not just short summaries that she forced from her brother. Damn, if she was this pissed about it, she couldn't even imagine the storm going on in Jace's head.

Pity ran through her heart as she thought of the sad look that haunted her adoptive brother's eyes in the past week, but she immediately shook it off. Jace didn't want pity. He wanted action. She could tell he was tired of just laying around, though maybe he didn't realize it himself. Jace may be smart, but when it came to things about himself, he was pretty dense.

_As soon as I get this crap resolved, I'll take him out demon hunting, maybe scout of some vampire coves- _Her thought process stopped dead in her tracks, and she quickly erased that last thought. It was out of habit, before Clary came along, she always had a list of things she would do out in the night. Yeah, she was more friendly with Downworlders than Shadowhunters from Alicante, but she was trained to know how to kill them, and it couldn't be helped that if she heard the word 'vampire' or 'werewolf' her brain launched into tactics mode. A stab here, a flick of her wrist and swirling electrum there, and a dead body falling flat on its face afterwards.

Even then, when she would date anyone just to get her parents attention, this was her mindset. But that was before, before Simon and Jordan and Luke and Magnus. But mostly Simon. An image of his face crossed her vision, the feel of his cold hands on her skin, his teeth in her neck, adrenaline rushing through her.

Her thoughts of blood lust were interrupted when she walked past a broken looking shack in between two large and tall buildings and her amulet pulsed again. About time, she was starting to think her mother never expected her to find this place. Stepping close, she scrunched up her nose, it smelled like the time when Church vomited all over the kitchen after having some of Isabelle's soup. Stupid cat, didn't know excellence if it hit it in the nose.

Something was odd about the shack, and she stepped back, taking it in. Slowly, she tried to look past the glamour. The reality wasn't much better than the false image. The store was more of a tool shed than anything that would sell magical items, and she was hesitant at first as she approached the door, unsure if she should knock or just step through.

A voice sounded from inside, it sounded crusty (can voice sound crusty?) like taking two rusty pipes and rubbing them against each other, "Look girlie are you just gonna stand there and stare or are ya' gonna walk yourself in here? Scram, your scaring away the costumers."

What costumers? She didn't give the voice the satisfaction of looking around her, she knew the alley was empty. Obviously it could see her, so she opened the door and stepped in, and masked her shock behind a raised eyebrow.

The place was a lot bigger than it let on. There was a long counter running along the store, opposite of the door, and all around her were shelves packed with random items. Some of them really stood out, such as a large golden crown that was placed onto the skull of a vampires head, its incisors looking polished and fierce. Others looked like they belonged at some mundie, what did Simon say they were, garage sale. An ornate pair of scissors sat at the shelf that ended right on right, they didn't look all that enchanting, just some scissors, but the voice sounded again, its croaky sound paining her ears, though she ignored it.

"Hey don't touch that! They're a collectable, and someone's already got their eye on it for a high price." A pair of eyes peered at her from under the counter, and Isabelle put her hand down from where she was reaching for the blade.

She walked over to the counter, careful to not raise her chin and look down at the little gremlin that was pulling a stool over to be able to see her better. She'd been at these types of places before, and the owners don't like it when their customers act all high and mighty. She knew that that was how most Downworlders thought that Shadowhunters thought of themselves as, not to mention that if she intimidated the thing, it probably wouldn't want to give her what she needed.

_Be anonymous first, and if the thing acts like an ass, then use intimidation, _she decided.

The little gremlin was an ugly looking thing, and Isabelle was tempted to allow the glamour that surrounded the inside of the shack to take over because she'd rather see a withered old man than the sore sight before her. The gremlin was about three feet tall, with a small, skinny, leathery body that had a curved spine, giving it a hunch like appearance. Its head was large and disproportionate to its body, its large, bat like ears spreading out farther than its shoulders. Two snake like eyes looked through her, jagged teeth cutting through its mouth, making it look like it was hard to speak, and its breaths hissed through its slit for nostrils. There was a rumor that these gremlins were cannibalistic, which is why you never saw them together and why they were so skinny, that they would go to such lengths that they'd shed their own skin like snakes and devour their own dead shell.

Which was why she had no problem with allowing the heavy glamour surrounding him to replace the revolting sight, seeing an old man well into his eighties with a bald head and hair sticking out of his ears, glasses hanging off the edge of his small pudgy nose.

"What can I get ya', doll?" The rasping voice said. Isabelle prickled at the word 'doll', and tried to ignore her disgust.

_Anonymous, I'm anonymous….._

Taking out a slip of paper from her jacket pocket, she repeated the words her mother wrote out for her, " I need a salve for," she squinted at her mother's curving letters, "burns made by coming into contact with the saliva of a two horned Ravenor mother."

The gremlin gave her a weird look.

_Really mom, did you really want me out of the house this badly? A ravenor mother? The hell…._

This was just more proof that her mom didn't really care if Isabelle had actually found the place at all. Now she was even more pissed, not only did she look like an anonymous freak who came into 'contact with ravenor saliva,' but the way the gremlin looked at her made it seem like _she _was the one who had fangs jabbing out of her lip.

"Well?" she said not too politely, "Do you have any?" She stared at the thing in the eye, despite her promises of not causing trouble. It disappeared through a curtained doorway without another word, muttering something that sounded like, "Stupid Nephilim," and, "Crazy obsessions."

While she waited as the gremlin rummaged through, she looked at random items on the counter. Bizarre looking snow globe-like things that showed a dark cave inside, and when you shook it, instead of white flakes there was red ooze dripping down the side, a sign saying, "Hell, this way," pointing into the cave. There were werewolf claws made into necklaces, sort of like what she's seen mundies do with shark teeth, and little trinkets that supposedly brought good luck. Not that Isabelle believed in luck. As well as weird voodoo dolls, one was stabbed like a pin cushion with needles, and the doll's expression looked too much like one of someone screaming for death than she would like to admit.

What caught her eye was a list nailed next to the curtained doorway, just behind the curtain. In an ugly lettering, though why it was in English she had no clue, was a list of items that customers must have pre-ordered. Amusing herself, she read down the list.

_A blade dipped in fairy blood_

_Steles_

_A book of 101 demon languages_

_Two bottles of Strength Enhancer_

_A magic cupboard_

Magic Cupboard? What? You'd think of something and the item would appear when you wanted it? Isabelle liked the idea, the she would be able to have all the ingredients she'd need to cook a fabulous dinner for the whole family!

_What else will they invent?_

When the gremlin came back from the back of the store, handing her a small round container that was corked at the top, she nodded her head at the list.

"I couldn't help but notice, but what's a magic cupboard? Do you have more of those?"

The gremlin's eyes widened, but then quickly masked its panic. But Isabelle noticed.

"Oh, that's nothing, just some custom made orders," Could a rusty voice sound nervous?

"Custom made? Do you make the cupboard board by board, or do you place some enchantment over any cupboard?" Isabelle asked inquisitively.

"Look doll, I only want my money, and it's not at my disposal to give out information on custom made items." The gremlin thrust its hand out, expecting payment.

Isabelle didn't know why, but she was furious. She was only curious, but now she wanted to know, if only because the little monster was acting completely intransigent.

(Writer's POV: That's right kiddies, Lacie's gonna teach you some vocab. Intransigent, look it up)

Holding the pot of salve to her, she looked down at the gremlin, "I only want to know about this, no need to be so secretive. Why? Did the person who ordered this ask not to give out any information on it?"

Bingo. He was getting fidgety, "Look Shadowhunter, business is business, now hand over the cash or I'll take that salve back."

Oh, now she really wanted to know about this.

"Who ordered that?" She says with a finger pointing at the paper, accusing-like.

"That's not for me to-" Isabelle stopped it before it could finish by smacking her hand down on the counter, items shaking, making the gremlin jump off of its stool.

Anonymous be damned.

_I am Isabelle Lightwood and if I want answers, you better expect that the sky is purple and made of hedgehogs before I take no for an answer._

Her lips quirked at bit at her thought. Magnus had told it to her once.

Eyes back on her hand, she said in a cold voice, "No, it's not for you to say." The gremlin looked relieved, but before he could even breathe slowly turned her gaze onto the gremlin, a malicious grin spreading across her features, "It's too bad, now this place will have to be destroyed, and hell will have another creature roaming its grounds." She flicked a seraph blade from where it was neatly tucked in its sheath on her thigh.

If gremlins could pale, this one would have been paper white. It stuttered, "No! Don't do that! Please, I can't tell you, if I do, he'll be-" his breath caught at his revelation.

"He?" Isabelle repeated, "So it's a male." The gremlin kept backing up, heading for the curtained door, where there was probably a way to escape.

Before it could do anything, Isabelle leaped across the counter, blocking the way to the back of the store. Taking the point of the blade, she shoved it underneath the gremlin's neck, not enough to puncture the skin, but enough to see the fear in the gremlin's eyes.

"Look you disgusting lizard, tell me who ordered that cupboard, is it really that bad? I only need a name. Might as well tell me, or else I'll find every single gremlin from miles around and tell them all your address…"

Apparently the cannibal rumor was true, because the gremlin panicked even more, trying to struggle away from her, but he couldn't venture far.

"A name!" she barked, "One freaking name, and maybe I won't be tempted to set this place on fire!"

The gremlin gulped, trying to find its voice, "S….t….n…"

She shook him, pressing the blade even further, "Speak clearly, my patience is wearing thin."

"Sebastian!" he cried out, "That's all he gave me! His name is Sebastian!"

Isabelle's blood turned to ice, her body going rigid.

Slowly, she asked, "Does anyone else know this?" he shook his head.

"Good, don't tell anyone," her voice was off, numb.

But that didn't last long before hot fury ignited in her veins. Taking a wad of payment and throwing it in the gremlins face, she dashed out of the store, knowing she wouldn't get any more out of that ugly thing.

Concealing herself in a glamour before she exited the alley, she ran with all the speed in her, needing to run, to let out all of this sudden anger within her.

_Sebastian…_Her mind growled like a tiger, _You bastard….._

Where there was Sebastian, there was Clary, which is why no one, meaning the Clave, could know about this yet.

_Hang in there Clary, we're one step closer….._she thought as the gates to the Institute grew nearer.

Isabelle didn't notice it. She saw a shadow in the corner of her eye, when suddenly, something heavy smacked the back of her head, and everything faded into black.

**Clary POV**

They'd been walking for a while now, occasionally talking, and now and then falling into silences where they merely accepted each other's company, gazing at the scenery.

They were walking in growing circles, looping farther and farther away from home, but it was always in the center of their little invisible trails.

They were in the middle of another silence, walking side by side, Chris's long legs easily knowing where to step amongst the grassy ground, concealing random pits here and there. Clary knew how to navigate through them too, but her legs were shorter, her stride not as long, so it took her a longer while to track through everything, despite Sebastian's knowledge.

As she was observing a worm that had crawled through dirt she turned up with her shoe, seeing the way its body slithered past, Chris asked, "So how are you doing with your rune?"

She had to think about this for a while, because she really didn't know how to answer.

"Well, you could say I'm doing okay, but then again, I'm worried," she finally said, "Today the rune will move from seven to eight, the end of the eighth day, and really, I don't know what'll happen when the twelfth day is over, nor do I know if I want to know."

"Why? You don't want to go back to being old Clary?" he teased.

She rolled her eyes, "I mean, what's going to happen, by end if it all, will I just return back to normal? Will the rune disappear, or will it permanently stay on my wrist?"

"Don't forget that you don't even know what the completed rune looks like after its done," he added.

"That too." She said.

They walked on for another few minutes, before they reached an overturned log. It must have been there for a while because there were a bunch of plants growing around it. Clary started for it, a perched herself onto it, smoothing her hands over it. The bark was soft, no splinters. Huh.

Chris settled down next to her, staring into the distance. This time Clary broke the silence by asking, "Have there ever been any other cases like this? I know there are runes that last for days, and runes like ones for parabatai that last until one dies, but I've never heard of one that had an expiration date."

Chris shrugged his shoulders, "Not that I've heard of, you're the one with the angel blood," he glanced at her, "or at least, you were the one with the angel blood."

Clary rubbed her thumb over the rune on her wrist, starting at the twelve and moving it clockwise until it reached the seven, where an intricate hand tattooed onto her skin lay.

"Or, do you?" Chris asked.

"Or do I what?" she asked absently imagining how the rune would look like when it was completed.

"Do you still have angel blood? Your special angel blood, the one that gave you the ability to draw your, enhanced runes." Clary could feel his gaze still on her, so much that she pulled her eyes away from her wrist and met his eyes.

Her mind far away, she said, "I don't think so, well, honestly, I haven't tried to draw any runes."

"What about that rune you drew on my back at the Caribbean?" he asked.

"That was just a regular healing iratze," she thought back, her mind drifting back to that moment under the moonlight. Scars and kisses.

Her cheeks heated up. Had that really happened? Ducking her head down, allowing her hair to obscure her face, she continued to finger her rune, trying to say in a neutral voice, "But I wouldn't try to draw any runes while I'm like this, don't want any repercussions to suddenly occur."

Chris's face came into her vision, as he ducked down, looking up at her. He smirked at the sight of her blush, a teasing look in his eyes.

A sudden movement caught her attention. As she followed the sight, it was just a bird, flying to its nest. Her eyes roamed across the treetops, watching as branches interlocked with each other. A breeze tossed her hair up, getting in her face. Clary was used to this, since her normal red hair was so messy, and always getting in her way, so when her hair got into her eyes, as per habit, she left it be.

Chris moved her fingers toward her face, tucking the stray strands behind her ears. "What are you thinking about?"

"I'm thinking about how this place reminds me a lot of the apple trees back on a farm I used to go to a lot." She said, nostalgia changing the shape of the trees to something that fit her memories.

"What farm?" he asked.

"Oh, it was Luke's farm, we used to go there a lot, mostly during the summer, Simon would come with me sometimes, and I remember how he would all tan and brown, and I'd get sunburns that'd turn my skin red making me regret stepping foot outdoors," she smiled, "But I would always go back, no matter what."

Clary suddenly realized that she was talking about her life, and wondered if this would affect Chris, if he would get angry, bringing up her past like that when they were supposed to be together. But his face was expressionless.

He was silent for a moment, and Clary was starting to get fidgety, suddenly wanting to get something out of him, whether it was anger, sadness, something. And she was about to say something off topic, like how these trees were much nicer and taller than any of the ones on Luke's farm, but Chris began to speak again.

"When I used to live with Valentine, we lived in a small house, in a valley, next to a river that snaked through the land, so that at night, it looked like an actual snake eating the land." His eyes took on a look that Clary felt was familiar, one that Clary did all the time.

When she was lost in her own mind.

"Whenever Valentine would leave, to go see his golden boy, Jace, I would sometimes escape the house, and walk down the river and follow it from sunrise to sunset, to see if there was an end to it, because to me, the valley was all I saw for a long time, it was all I believed existed." He was silent again, before starting back up, "I could never go far off, even though I could be left alone at home for days at a time, but never did find the end of the valley. Looking back at it, I think that's why Valentine was never concerned with leaving me alone, I would never make it that far off."

"I always thought that Valentine and I were the only two people in the world, until one day, when I was small, he took me out into a city. I don't remember what we were there for, or where we were, all I could remember was feeling like there was too many people for what I thought. And when we returned back to the house, I never felt the same. I no longer felt like the owner of my own world, I felt isolated, away from where everyone was."

Clary could understand, if she thought that what she saw was all there was, then seeing New York, she'd never be able to go back.

_Chris is telling me about his past…._

He was being open, about everything, and she wondered if he even realized what he was doing.

Suddenly, without thinking, she slipped off of the log, and waiting for Chris to slip off, they continued their trek through the random forest.

Their empty forest.

Where only the two of them existed.

**Jace POV**

"Come one Alec, you can do better than that!" Jace called from the beams that intersected at the ceiling in the training room.

Alec was standing up, having fallen from the beams after Jace had given him a while timed kick behind his knees, making them buckle and making him lose his balance and causing him to tumble all the way down to the mats that lined the ground.

Alec cringed, "You cheated! I was taking off my harness for the bungee jump!"

Jace swirled around his seraph blade like a drumstick, "Oh, so if a demon is picking at his teeth, you're just gonna wait until he's done to stab it in the eye?"

"I think you're just taking out all your frustration on me, I'm not a punching bag Jace, I'm your parabatai." Alec pointed out.

Jace jumped down from the beam, landing perfectly in front of Alec.

"Show off," he muttered.

"Oh come on Alec, you're the one who suggested training in the first place." Jace looked at him.

"Only because when I came out from the meeting with the Clave, you were up to your nose in books about the Caribbean, and muttering theories about how maybe the migration pattern of ducks (do ducks migrate?) had equal patterns as to the one with the house, which by the way makes no sense in many ways." Alec argued.

"Hey, I hate ducks, and I hate Sebastian." Jace shrugged, "It was worth a try."

"No, it wasn't," Alec said banally.

"Well!" Jace thrust his hands into the air, "I don't understand you, you don't want me to mope around, but you don't want me to enjoy myself either?"

"I'm not saying you shouldn't enjoy yourself," Alec said exasperated, "Just not at my expense, thank you very much."

"Hey, going back to the meeting," Jace's voice abandoned all playful manner and went straight to business, "How are things? Anything new?"

Alec's mind went back to the horrible three hour meeting, which was nothing but adults arguing with each other, "They haven't come up with anything new, they're as stumped as we are, basically the same fights, that Clary is working with Sebastian to overthrow us, that Clary's using her magic angel powers against us, etc, etc."

Alec sighed, "Some people have even 'claimed' to have seen them somewhere, they're lying, of course, because none of the place coincides with what we know, but I didn't point that out."

Jace frowned, "Who were they?"

Alec rolled his eyes, "Just some theorists who believe that even Jocelyn is in on this."

"And does the Council believe them?!"

"Absolutely not, even they know old grudges when they see one. It was just this old family whose had something against the Fairchilds for as long for quite some time now. Mom says it dates back to the eighteen hundreds, some Charlotte Fairchild, and old Consul the Clave had then."

"Huh," Jace said, "Clary's related to a Consul, but who was the person who said things against Jocelyn?"

"I don't know her name, but remember how Isabelle said that if she was ever given the chance to make a scarecrow out of living flesh, that lady would be her first victim?" Alec asked.

"Oh, her." He wrinkled his nose, "Yeah, I totally agree with Isabelle on that one."

"Speaking of Izzy, where is she? I thought she'd be hear by now to get everything she missed, if she hadn't already snuck around to hear it herself." Alec pondered.

Jace picked up a couple of knives and started throwing them at a target, imagining Sebastian's face right in the middle.

_Thwack._

Right in the forehead.

"I think I heard your mom sending her off to get some stuff, she made it look important, but by what I could see she just wanted Izzy's and her spying techniques out of the house." _Thwack. _ Between the eyebrows.

"Yeah, but don't you think that she'd be back by no-"Alex was interrupted by a knocking at the door, and turning around, Alec saw a young Shadowhunter, probably no older than Jace and him.

"Are you Alexander Lightwood?" he nodded to Jace, "Jace Lightwood?"

Alec nodded, while Jace muttered, still throwing knives, "Or Wayland, or Morgenstern, or Herondale, whichever people prefer."

Alec ignored that, asking, "What is it? Is something wrong?"

The Shadowhunter tensed, then breathed deeply, "I've been summoned to tell you two that your sister, Isabelle Lightwood, has been accused of cooperating with Jonathan Morgenstern."

_Thwack,_ Damn.

He missed.

**Chris POV**

They made it back to the house.

Clary was starting to feel her familiar anxiety, and they practically rushed at all speed back to the house, because she really wanted to.

Chris was starting to find routine in this sort of thing. Hard to believe that it had only happened seven times before.

Clary was on the couch, taking in deep breaths, trying to calm herself, but to no avail. She says that she felt like she was better at it now, but honestly, he just thought that it was because she knew what to expect. What she needed was something to distract herself.

"Do you want anything in particular?" he asked.

"Umm," she said before taking in another breath, "I don't know, maybe one of those squishy balls with beads in them, you know the ones meant for medical stuff or something?" she replied.

Walking to the kitchen, quickly forming an image of what she described, he opened a random cupboard, expecting a green plastic ball to appear. What he saw piqued his curiosity.

A white sheet of paper, written in a grotesque handwriting that he had no idea how he read, considering that the writer wrote in a rush. But when he did read it, he froze.

_Girl came in. Asked about magic cupboard. She knows you bought it. I'm sorry._

The gremlin that he threatened to kill sold him out. They were one step closer.

But if they were a step closer.

So was the Clave.

**Chris: Damn, they're gonna find me.**

**Clary: *shoots flairs into the sky* I'M RIGHT HERE!**

**Chris: As if they can see you**

**Clary: I know.**

**Lacie: well that took forever to update**

**Clary: Yeah Lacie, a lot of people are angry**

**Lacie: hey, it is a school night, and I stayed up to finish this chapter. Reason being because I have an essay that I really need to start on, and I can't do that with the thought that I had to update on my mind.**

**Chris: Well at least you updated.**

**Lacie: And now Lacie can disappear once more!**

**Clary: NO**

**Lacie: Aww…..well what did you think Lacie's little readers? From a 1 to 10, rate this chapter, and I will, umm, idk, I'll tally up the score, and give you guys an average.**

**Clary: Review you guys!**

**Chris: Ask her not to get me caught**

**Clary: *shoots more flares* SOOOSSSS!**

**Lacie: See ya next chapter!**


	14. Sleepy talks and underground prisons

**Lacie: Hello children :D**

**Clary: I am positive that I am not your child**

**Chris: I don't have a mother**

**Clary: Chris you do-**

**Chris: Nope. I don't**

**Clary: Don't be stubborn Chri-**

**Chris: I have no mother.**

**Clary: Then how were you born?**

**Chris: I wasn't born, I just exist. I wasn't here, but then I was…..**

**Lacie: Nope. I'm your mother.**

**Chris: I just said I don't have a mother.**

**Lacie: Chris did not exist before Lacie-Abyss, If Lacie-Abyss, then Chris. Therefore I am your mother. End of subject.**

**Chris: -_-**

**Lacie: Thank you so much guys for all the reviews and lovely things you all said and did! I really appreciate it! Anyways, I should be working on the three projects I have that are all due next week, including an essay, a poster for chemistry, and all this junk for English, but you know, fanfiction, its dominates me.**

**Clary: Just like art dominates me!**

**Chris: You haven't even done anything with your art things I got you**

**Clary: *eh-hem* *points to massive pile of filled out sketchbooks***

**Chris: When did you?...**

**Clary: MAGIC MWAHAHAHA**

**Lacie: Anyway, as you all know, and as I shall keep reminding you, I do not own TMI, but I do own white haired Clary and Chris. Therefore, I am their mother.**

**Clary: That just makes us siblings again**

**Lacie: I don't think of you two as siblings though! well, I umm….**

**Enjoy!**

**Clary POV**

Despite her four hour nap on the forest ground, Clary slept like a rock as soon as her head hit her pillow.

Her sleep was blissful, void of dreams, the type where one second you're falling asleep and the next you suddenly wake up to sun in your face and wondering if the whole night really just passed by.

Nonetheless, she was pretty comfortable, after having her 'episode', her rune now completing eight turns, the hour hand menacingly declaring only four more, she was tired out. These things weren't getting any easier, just as she thought she was getting the hang of it, it turned out she wasn't. There really wasn't much to prepare you for these types of things. She lied out on the couch for a while, before feeling her eyes droop, declaring to Chris that she was going to bed.

Chris had been strange, he had been quiet, and a bit unresponsive, which wouldn't have bothered her at all before. But now she had Sebastian's feelings and motives, and she could read Chris a lot better. Something was bugging him, and he was thinking about what to do about it. What it was, she had no clue.

_I'll ask him tomorrow in the morning…._her sleepy mind insisted as she drifted off to a land of sheep and warmth and tranquility.

She didn't know how long she'd been asleep, maybe four hours, give or take one, but it was still dark out when she awoke to the feeling of the mattress beneath her dipping under someone's weight.

Her head still groggy with sleep, she turned around, facing black deep, abysmal eyes.

"Why are you in my bed?" she slurred, "Is yours itchy or something?"

Chris chuckled slightly at her sleepy self, and spoke in a hushed voice, though why, she didn't know. Not like there was anyone to hear them.

"I couldn't sleep, so I decided to see how you were," he whispered.

"But you're in my bed," she insisted, adding, "and I'm fine, so why else are you here?"

Her eyelids pulled down on her like weights, telling her it was time to go back to sleep, but she fought against it. It was hard though, with Chris's extra body heat, the bed was warm and the covers felt like a cocoon on her skin. She just wanted to roll up and never awake again, but that would be rude of her.

"I don't know. Maybe I just felt like sleeping with my baby sister, is that so bad?"

No. It wasn't, so she shook her head.

_Come on Clary, just keep through the conversation, then you can have sleeeppp…_

"Okay, but we're just sleeping, cause I'm tired," she dragged out the word tired, exaggerating it.

Chris drew closer to her, causing more warmth to spread around her, making it practically impossible to stay awake. Their foreheads were an inch apart, and Clary's fuzzy mind could just barely make out Chris's features not two inches in front of her.

He outstretched his arm to her, caressing her face, which she leaned into because it felt nice.

_Stay awake Clary….._

She blinked her eyes a couple of times, not even realizing that she had started to doze away.

_Doze away. Give away, send away, send, what did I send again? Oh yeah, that drawing…_

It suddenly felt very important to Clary to tell Chris this, maybe if she told him her secret, he'd tell her what was bothering him. Worth a shot.

"Hey," she said, unsure of how to start this, "Remember how you said that I could send a letter to my family?"

"Mhm?" he teased one of her curls, rubbing the strands between his fingers.

"Well, what if I drew something instead?" she said.

He stopped moving, his expression hadn't changed but she could feel gears moving in his demonic mind. "Do you want to?" he asked, curiously.

"Actually, I already sort of did," she confessed.

"And by sort of, you mean….." his tone suggested another question.

"I mean, I already drew the picture," she said, "And I sent it too."

He was silent for a moment, and during that moment Clary wondered how he would react to that, if she should have told him in the first place. But in her slumbery state, she just didn't care. She had to tell him sometime and now was as best as any.

Even though she was ready for anything, she was surprised slightly at the calm demeanor from him.

Patiently, he asked, "When?"

"A few days ago, when you got me the paints and art supplies," she replied. She was still waiting for a fuse to blow, but it didn't seem to be coming. _If that's a good or bad I don't know….._

"Okay," he said.

"Okay?" she asked, slightly confused, "You're not mad?"

He rubbed his thumb over her eyelids, sending little tendrils of heat, and said, "No, I'm not. I guess I shouldn't be, I did tell you that I wasn't going to read what you would send if you didn't want me to, even though I'm kind of upset you didn't tell me, it doesn't matter if I wasn't going to know what was in it anyway."

"Oh," she said, a bit of unknown guilt lifted off of her shoulders, some she didn't know she had.

"But, I am curious," his tone was neutral, but Clary's inner Sebastian told her that he was actually dying to ask her this, "What did you send? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

Clary thought on this, really, it wasn't a bad thing, "Just a drawing of myself, kind of just to show them that I'm okay, and not to worry." Her words were sincere.

Chris's eyes were the only thing that showed his relief of this, as if he thought she might have sent something else other than that.

"Why did you do it in secret?" he asked. "And how?"

"Well, through the cupboards, and I don't know why I did it in secret, I guess, I just felt like it was something I had to do myself, like it was my responsibility." Clary really didn't know why she did it, it was just something she felt that had to be done against him.

"Are you mad?" she asked. A small memory of a conversation with her mother came into her mind, when broke one of her toys. She had brought it to her mother, in its broken state, and when Jocelyn had only looked at the toy, her small childish voice asked, scarred, "_Are you mad?_" A bit of that childish voice crept into her now, whether because she was tired, or because she was worried that he would actually be mad.

His features softened more, cupping her cheek, "No, I'm not mad."

"Okay," she said, and with that she started closing her eyes, feeling sleep nudging her away.

And she was almost asleep too, but something kept pricking at her mind, it held her in place, preventing her from sleeping in piece.

She heavily opened her eyes again, slightly surprised to see that Chris was still awake, playing with a strand of her hair. Upon her looking, his attention was on her, their gazes meeting. Normally, she would have been slightly freaked out that he was watching her in her sleep, and that he was looking straight into her eyes, but she was heavy with sleep, yet even so, she had to know something.

"Why else?" she asked.

"Why else what?" was his response.

"I know that you just didn't come into my bed because you couldn't sleep, what's wrong?" Clary questioned, "You're nervous, I can feel it, something's off."

Instead of denying it, he smirked and said, "So you can read me that well now huh? I can't tell if that's a good things or a bad thing,"

Clary stared at him.

He sighed, "Alright, I won't change the subject. Since you told me about the drawing, I'll tell you what's bothering me, and really this'll affect you too."

Her eyebrow raised, "what?"

He propped himself up on one elbow, "Yesterday, I got a message sent to the cupboard."

"Sent to? I didn't know you could send things to our cupboard."

"Well, there's only one per- one way to send things to our cupboard," he explained.

"Stop," she said, "You were about to say person, weren't you? Why?"

"Because the person, the only one who can send something to us, is not a person," he stalled.

"Chris, give me the whole thing, short and simple." She didn't like it when people temporized things.

He sighed again, "The cupboard that we got was especially made by a gremlin, one who I forced into secrecy, that he would never reveal that I was a customer, or how to reach me." He shifted in the bed, so that he was on his back now, looking up at the ceiling, "however, yesterday, during your episode, there was a note in the cupboard."

"From him." Clary assumed.

"Yes, from him," he agreed.

"What was in the note?" she asked

"That someone knows that I bought the cupboard," he answered.

"Really?" she asked with a yawn, "That's not that bad, they don't know where you are though."

"Yes, but I'm still very upset that the gremlin didn't keep his word," his eyes had gone a deep shade of black, and Clary knew he was thinking with his demon mind, thinking of ways to make the gremlin pay.

"Well, he was probably intimidated, I mean, if you threatened it, and then somebody else did, they probably were pretty convincing," she said, "By the way, who do you think was the person that knows you bought the cupboard?"

"I'll give you a hint, the note said this specifically, 'Girl came in. Asked about magic cupboard. She knows you bought it.'"

Clary thought. A girl? So any adults are out of the question, which crosses the Clave out. A girl, was it just some random girl, a warlock, a vampire, a werewolf, that would scare the gremlin enough to reveal his secrets. But demons aren't afraid of Downworlders, so it has to be a Shadowhunter. And not just any Shadowhunter, one that knew how to deal with black magic stores, assuming that's where Chris had gotten the cupboard, which he did, and if that's what the Shadowhunter did, and she was able to scare the gremlin into giving her the information….

"Isabelle," she breathed.

Chris only nodded.

Isabelle. Which meant the Institute, which meant her mom, Luke, Jace. They had a clue, they had a sign of where she was, and knew someone who could help them find her. Find them.

_They could find me…_The thought both excited and terrified her.

Terrified? Why would she be terrified of her family finding her? Isn't that what she wanted? Wasn't that her original goal? To play along with Chris's games until she could find a way out, until she found a loophole and could sneak her way through?

_That was before, before she came to understand Chris's way of thinking, before Chicago, and Arabia, and Russia, and the Caribbean, before her rune, before, before, _

Before she started to care for him.

It was a shock to her heart. Only a couple weeks ago, the sound of his name brought goose bumps to her skin, repulsion to her mind, and the feel of cold eyes staring her down while hot fingers held her face. How could it be that she went from getting that emotion from him, to, what? How did she feel about him now? Did she really care about him, or was she just started to understand why he did things, to empathize with him, how could it be, that in just almost two weeks she changed her whole way of thinking about him? Was it just her inner demon, her inner Sebastian, that made her think this way, or was she really, truly thinking this?

_Well, you did fall in love with Jace after only about a week….._

That was true, but this was different, this was her brother, who she thought was evil, and horrible, and, and, demonic. But she was demonic too now, wasn't she? At least until the rune dyed out, if it did, because Clary was still uncertain and wary of the runes capabilities. And what would she do, if the Clave did find them, would she side with them and turn on her brother, would she try to convince them that he wasn't so bad? _Oh yeah, because standing in the middle of the two and saying, 'I know he's a demon, and that he turned a bunch of people into Demon Shadowhunters, and that he killed people, but really, he's a good guy._ She might as well take a gun and shoot herself first, how would she be able to convince her mother of this? Luke, whose sister was turned into a Demon Shadowhunter, how would she tell the Lightwoods, that the guy who killed their son was a good guy? How could she face Jace with this truth, if he swore that he would make Chris pay for everything he put him through, how could she?

She couldn't, and Clary suddenly realized how much trouble she was in, because in coming to understand Chris and liking him, she turned away from her family, and there was no way back.

But wouldn't it be easier? To turn back and imagine that none of this ever happened, that she never encountered Chris, that Chris never existed. There was Sebastian, and that's all there ever was. She could go back to Jace, her Jace, the one she nearly died for, and her mother, and continue living the life she had fought for. Wouldn't that be easier? The only problem is, she couldn't. She could feel that the moment she faced the Institute again, she would never be able to stop seeing those black as night eyes, shattering as she ran away from him, and back into the family she had.

She'd be tearing away the only comfort he's probably had, because she doubted that Valentine was very father like to begin with. She felt like Sebastian, Chris, was starting to find actual humanity, and Clary didn't wasn't to ruin that by taking all that he had progressed by throwing it back in his face.

_Calm down Clary, _she thought, _they haven't found you yet,_" but what would she do when they did, if they did? It all came down to one question, what side was she on?

"Clary, Clary?" she zoomed back into focus as Chris rubbed his knuckles against her nose, "Can you at least tell me when you plan on taking off and running into your own world? That way I don't feel like I'm talking to a statue."

"Oh, I was just tired, I'm kind of sleepy," she pronounced this with another yawn that wasn't entirely fake.

Chris laid down with her, saying, "Sorry, you're tired, I'll let you sleep,"

She nodded, their conversation following her into her dreamlands, gremlins and cupboards and Claves and black eyes mixing together onto a cacophony of noise in her mind. She could feel herself drifting, that brief moment where you know you're just about to fall asleep, but you could stop yourself if you tried. She could feel Chris pulling her to him, spooning her, his hand on her arm and the other wrapped around her protectively. His face was close to the back of her head.

Chris must have thought she was already asleep, because just as she was about to give in and give up all conscious thought, three words echoed in her mind, slipping into the crack of the door of her mind that she was shutting.

_Stay with me_

**Clary POV (yes, more of Clarissa Adele Fray)**

That morning, Chris had woken her up.

"Let's go train," he said, so she quickly showered and changed into some red sweatpants and a white long t-shirt.

Heading into the kitchen, she found the wooden door leading to the castle turret to be open, a dark mouth of a tunnel black and menacing, green flames of witchlight beckoning her forth. Stepping up to the open door, she peered through the gaping hole that didn't seem like it would end, even with the witchlight leading the way.

"Chris?" she called out into the kitchen, her voice carrying upstairs. No answer, meaning that he was already in the training room. She was a little apprehension and foreboding seemed to seep through the walls of the tunnel and into her bones. She never walked to the training room on her own, not that she was afraid to, more like she was unsure of what was awaiting her on the other side.

_Well, then let's find out! _ Clary left the door into the kitchen open, and took and even pace down the tunnel, refusing to get excited or scared if Chris was watching her in any way. She could feel the tunnel sloping downwards every step she took, and she tended to stick to the shadowy areas between the mounted witchlight torches. When she reached the door at the end of the tunnel, she stood behind it as she opened it, keeping it between her and the spiraling stairs that led further down. Nothing, so she continued her way down. Going round and around until she was unsure how many loops around she'd done.

Meeting the final door, she placed her hands around her cold metal knob, and listened. Her senses were on high alert, her muscles tense, read to spring in a moment's notice. If she were a dog, her ears would be pointed, her tail straight.

She sucked in a breath. Nothing to fear.

She eased to door open, and Clary saw her life flash before her eyes.

It didn't flash fast enough though. Before she fully realized it, she had ducked and rolled and stood while keeping her eyes on what attacked her, all while backing up cautiously.

Chris, no Sebastian, was holding a sword, a real sword, and already had turned around to face her.

"Have you gone completely insane?" Clary raged, "You could have killed me!"

Sebastian smirked, "That's what the enemy wants Clary, to kill you. So you better be prepared. Nicely done, by the way."

"Still waiting on your apology!"

He scoffed, and mocked her, "I am sorry that I swung a katana at your head, Clarissa."

"Next time you decide to assault me, try something less lethal, Christopher." She imitated his tone.

Strange how the training room changed their mood toward each other, the atmosphere was completely different than the one last night. Nevertheless, they were Shadowhunters, and Shadowhunters were not fluffy, kind and caring people. They were cold, calculating weapons of justice, or at least that's what the Clave thought themselves as.

Clary liked to think of themselves as angels who were here to do the dirty work no one else wanted to do, to be beautiful and horrible at the same time, because that's what being a Nephilim was about. Some things in life are beautiful, the people, the runes, the accomplishments, the adventures, but a lot of it ended in horrible, terrifying massacre and bloodshed.

Sebastian was walking towards her, the sword, what did he call it? A katana, Clary recalled hearing about those in Anime, but she didn't know much about them. She kept backing up, until she was met with one of the tall support columns that held up the roof of the turret. All of the columns were lined with weapons, swords and maces and such hanging on nails and racks. As her back hit the column, and Sebastian zoomed in quick onto her, her right hand sneaked behind her, grasping the first thing it could find.

Clary recognized the weapon immediately, or rather, her demonic senses did. Sebastian was only a second away, coming in fast, but to Clary, time seemed to have slowed down. The weight of the weapon handle felt heavy to her hand, foreign, but as she shifted her grip, the weapon felt like an extension of her own arm. She knew how to work it.

Sebastian had the katana up, and everything speeded back up as she moved in a rush of air and metal, and deflected the attack. His eyebrows shot up at the sight of the weapon in her possession. Clary only smirked.

A curving, almost four feet long grim reaper scythe shined in front of them, its cutting blade a beautiful evening blue. The staff to hold it by had several places where she could place her grip on, and if she stood it upright she had no doubt it would be almost as tall as her. It was a wonder she had managed to swing it in the first place, and a miracle that she had done it in time. But surprisingly, the scythe was pretty easy to handle, there was no way to explain it. It was just one of those things that you know how to do, even if you've never done it or have seen it done before.

Deciding to take advantage that she had the upper hand, she quickly slid the scythe away from the standstill that they were in, she quickly flipped the scythe so that only the staff was out in front of her, and as fast as she could made a swipe for Sebastian's knees.

He managed to jump at just the right moment, and when Clary flipped the scythe so that the curved blade was now aiming right at him, and swung the thing like a baseball bat, he pushed himself off the column and escaped it. Clary ran after him, not letting him have time at all, and as soon as his feet touched the ground she swung at him again, but even she knew before that he would be able to bring up the katana to stop it. Clary gripped the staff with two hands, moving it this way and that, using its big size so that Sebastian wouldn't be able to get past it as easily.

For every blow she made, he matched it. For every jump and attack he made, she deflected it. They were evenly matched, and Clary thought that perhaps it was because of the weapon in her hands that she was able to perform this well. But one glance at the weapons on the wall and she knew that she would have been able to fight easily as well as if she had fought with a butter knife.

They didn't seem to get tired, it felt like they were locked in a never ending dance, because every step she made felt like she had already had it carefully planned out before. Even though they had dangerous tools in their possession, they didn't try to kill each other, one would know instantly when the other wasn't going to be able to stop the attack in time, but when the time would come when they go to that point, who knew. Clary felt like a person on autopilot, she hardly thought, hardly blinked. Everything was instinct. If she fell, she didn't feel the impact, only the feel of wood underneath her. When their weapons collided, she felt the impact of metal on metal, and it sounded both lovely and terrifying to her ears.

It wouldn't end, surely it wouldn't, they both didn't seem to give up, no matter how hard Clary looked for an opening, or how much Sebastian pushed her, because they were both giving it their all, perhaps Sebastian had matched his strength to hers, perhaps she was imagining the whole evenly matched thing, but maybe he really was putting in all of his effort into this fight, maybe they were equals.

She didn't know how long they fought, all she knew was, left, right, step back, more pressure, behind you, switch position, flick the staff, etc. Until suddenly, Sebastian had locked themselves in another stance where neither could back off without letting the other come onto them, he released one hand off the katana, and used the other to grab the scythe. Clary instantly released the scythe, letting it drop to the ground as she jumped backwards. Good thing she had too, because if not, the scythe would have slid off the katana, and sliced right into her foot, which was why Sebastian had moved it in the first place.

But now she was without weapon, and she didn't have time to think before she had to duck and roll again, her scythe too far away.

"Come on Clary, don't lose yet," easy for him to say, he was the one who was swinging around his katana like he was the samurai god.

He had backed her up against a wall, but this one had no weapons, not even anything for her to climb onto.

"Just say uncle and I can stop Clary," he didn't even sound out of breath, and she was too focused to inspect if she was too.

"Why don't you just stop now?" she asked with a poker face. She didn't want him to think that she was backing down, because she really just wanted to know.

"Koketsu ni irazunba koji wo ezu. 'If you do not enter the tiger's cave, you will not catch its cub,' it's a Japanese proverb, meaning that if you don't try, you won't get what you want," he positioned his katana.

"Urusai," Clary said, trying to make a Japanese accent.

Sebastian's sword dropped a bit, making a questioning face, "what does that mean?"

Clary lunged herself at him, grabbing his sword arm and swinging with all her might until he hit the wall behind her. He grunted as his arm smashed against the brick wall, and the katana fell to the ground with a clatter. She looked at him as he rubbed his arm, and said, "It means noisy. In other words, shut up."

As she said that, she collapsed to the ground, her mind finally catching up to her body, processing that it was dead tired. Glancing at the high windows, she was surprised to see that they had been in the training room for quite some time now.

She stretched her aching muscles as Chris, yes now he's Chris, sat beside her, rolling his shoulder.

"Did I hurt you?" she asked in a neutral tone.

"Nah, I'll be fine, nothing I can't endure," he stopped, then added, "You're getting better, stronger too."

She shrugged, "It's only because of the rune, I'm only as good as you because I have your strength."

"Well, yeah, but now you know how it feels, so if it's really just the rune, then you can train to make yourself be up to this point. You know what it is, so you can set a goal there," he pointed out.

She nodded. He meant if all went well with the rune.

"By the way," she suddenly asked, "How long has that scythe been there?" The blue scythe had felt right in her grip, and she felt like a badass with it in her hands. Just like the emerald green blade, which was tucked neatly under her pillow, not that Chris noticed, well he probably did, but didn't mention it.

"That thing? It's been here the whole time." He answered.

"Have you ever used it?"

"I'm trained to be able to fight with all sorts of weapons, so yeah, I could use it, not that I do. It's a little too big, too flashy. I like smaller things, like the katana and seraph blades. Those get the job done." He said this in such a guy tone that Clary had to tease him.

"Aw.. Chris doesn't like scythes because it looks girly on him…."

Chris looked insulted, "Weapons are supposed to be tools meant for killing, not for looking nice. And if I did had to come to use it, it wouldn't matter, I'd use it, but like I said, I'm trained to fight with anything around me, I can kill with an earring and a piece of string if I had to."

"Well the next time we're in town I'll take you to the nearest high school so that you can start a food fight and kill people by forcing them to eat the mystery meat." Clary smiled innocently.

Chris flicked her forehead.

"Ow," she rubbed her skin as if he punctured it. He stood up, giving her a hand, and she stretched her arms to the sky.

"Hey, speaking of nearest town, guess where we are?" he said.

"Mars?" Clary said, because really, how would she know.

"Maybe next week, but no. I'll give you a hint, we're up north."

"Oh great, more cold."

Chris chuckled, "Guess."

Clary thought, "I don't know, Greenland?"

"Actually, you're close. We're in Canada, but we're next to water, so if you traveled up northeast you'd get to Greenland."

"Not that we're gonna do that, right?" Clary didn't feel like traveling in a boat on freezing water.

Chris reached over and grasped her right hand, twining their fingers together. Their fingers fit into all the right places. Clary didn't know what to make of us this, so she reacted as she would had this been Simon, or Luke, like when she was little, and she started swinging their hands back and forth, walking around him, leaning away so that she was just playing around. Simon and she used to spin around and around until they either fell down or knocked something over, which lead to her mother giving both of them stern looks, but Chris stayed in place, letting Clary swing his arm back and forth.

His face watching their moving hands, he said, "No we're not going to Greenland, we won't go that far up north, we're already pretty far north as it is."

"So, if we're not going to Greenland, what are we gonna do?" Clary asked.

"Whatever you want to do, but I have one thing in mind," Chris looked at her from his peripheral vision.

She stopped swinging their arms.

"Like what?"

Chris smiled, "Would you like to see the northern light?"

**Isabelle POV**

It's not nice to wake up to darkness.

You open your eyes and see nothing, making you question whether or not your eyes are open or not. Isabelle blinked a few times, but she was pretty sure her eyes were open and wide. What's happening? Was she blind? Had the hit on the back of her head ruined her eyesight and now she was blind?

She scoffed at herself. She had runes preventing things like a simple knock to the head protecting her.

So if her eyes were open, and she couldn't see, it simply meant that there was no light here. But where was here?

That's when she realized the cuffs around her wrist. Feeling with her hand, she felt that she had a tight, thick metal cuff on her right hand that was chained to the wall, so that she could only walk about three feet in any direction. She did not panic, though it was troubling to know that she couldn't see or move, plus the fact that she had nothing to defend herself with. Upon inspection she discovered that all of her weapons were confiscated, and when she meant all, she meant all. Even the dagger that had been tucked into the waistband of her underwear.

_Damn perverts, I'll kill whoever did this to me, as soon as I figure out how…_

One thing they forget to take though. She smiled as she shook off one of her stiletto heels, the cold cement floor under her foot freezing, and she blindly twisted the heel until it unscrewed itself from the shoe, revealing a stele that she hid there for safe keeping. A girls gotta have some danger in her shoes…

Taking her stele with her left hand, she carefully etched a rune that would unleash her from the chain. It was difficult, considering that she was right handed, but she had managed to draw it without anything bad happening. As soon as her hand was free, she took off her other heel, taking out the seraph blade hidden within it. She was glad that she was never completely defenseless, but she would have preferred her whip over a blade any day. She'd get it back though, then the first thing she'd do was chop off the arm of the person who decided they could reach into Isabelle Lightwood's underwear and get away with it…..

First things first, where was she? Unfortunately, witch lights don't fit into stiletto heels, so she would have to compromise with the light from her seraph blade.

"Michael," she whispered as the seraph blade lit up, illuminating the area around her. At first, she wasn't surprised. A small cell, only about four feet by four feet, made by three walls and one entirely consisting of vertical bars and a door. It was when she looked beyond the cell, into the shadows, that her heart sank.

Walking close to the bars, sticking her blade through them so that she could get as much light as possible, her eyes saw what her heart couldn't believe. The silent city. She was in the City of Bones, deep underground. No wonder it was so dark, so cold, so empty. No one but the dead and Silent brothers wandered these floors.

Izzy fought off a wave of panic. It wasn't easy, sure she was trained, ready for anything, but there was something about being in a dark underground place where your ancestors are buried and where one day you'll be too that really got to a person. Not only that, but the fact that she had been here before, added an extra pinch of creepy to the list. Sure, then had been different, she was with Clary and Alec, and they were there on a mission, to break Jace out of the Silent City, so the idea of a goal and that people were there with her had helped to calm herself down. But that was different now. Now she was alone and no had clue what to do, or where in the Silent City she was.

Wait, if she was in the Silent City, a place accessible to only Shadowhunters, then who had knocked her out?

_Let's go find them and kick their ass…._

Poising her stele over the metal of the door, she drew a rune that would open it. She was never especially good with runes, so when it didn't work, she blamed it on that. But when it didn't work the second time, or the third time, or the fourth, she was starting to get a little worried.

A voice in her mind whispered, "_That won't work, the cell is designed specifically to keep Shadowhunters inside." _

Isabelle jerked her head up and almost screamed at the face of the Silent brother that was standing right in front of her.

The light from the seraph blade did not make his already mutilated face look any better, the green light casting an eerie glow on his him, the stitches seeming more intense and crudely done, the place where his eyes used to be appearing gaunt and disgusting, as if the eyes were pulled out just moments before. Izzy never liked Silent brothers, why did their rituals have to be so severe? Couldn't they just put on a permanent blind and silence rune on them?

The Silent brother, having felt her immediate shock, stepped back, away from the direct light of the blade so that his face was washed in shadow. Izzy momentarily felt ashamed for letting her disgust appear like that, but then she pushed the guilt aside. They were probably used to it, besides, they brought this upon themselves.

"Why am I here?" she asked aloud, her initial shock wearing down.

"_I cannot answer that,"_ the voice whispered.

"Then what, you're my keeper or something? I didn't know Silent brothers also worked as security guards," Izzy retorted.

The Silent brother didn't reply at first, as if contemplating how much he could tell her, "_I am to keep an eye on you until the people who have imprisoned you here return with your parents and siblings."_

Keep an eye on me. Silent brothers shouldn't be allowed to say that, granted they don't have eyes. Hold up, keep an eye on me until my parents get here, meaning that until they'd come to get her out, or come for them to be imprisoned too?

"Why am I here?" she asked again, "Who put me in here, obviously not you, so who told you to watch me. And don't tell me you can't tell me that because I have the right to know who thinks they have the right to imprison me, and why." _Also so that I can have a name and put them on my list of people to beat up….._

The Silent brother didn't answer her, instead, he turned around in that quiet way of theirs, and walked away from her.

"Hey! Hey where are you going! You didn't answer my question! Who the hell knocked me out! Who put me in here! Why? Where are you going! Aren't you supposed to be keeping an eye on me! You're a terrible guard! I could just break out you know, slash at these bars until one of them pops, get back here!" _And don't leave me in the dark…_even a Silent brother was better company than the dark shadows seeming try to reach for her. She wondered if they were the souls deceased Shadowhunters.

She considered screaming again, but she knew it was now use, besides, her voice seemed to echo here, so she could still hear her words, 'Get back here!' reverberating back to her ears.

It wasn't until the Silent brother was completely gone that she heard the sound of footsteps coming from the opposite direction he was walking towards. They weren't Silent brothers, Silent brothers didn't have footsteps, they were just there suddenly where you could have sworn nothing was there at all. The footsteps grew louder, until she realized they weren't just one set of footsteps, but several. About five to seven.

Her parents! And Alec, and Jace! They were here, but whether it was for her or to lock them in too, she didn't know.

"Hey, what's that light?" she recognized Alec's voice as the footsteps turned a corner, and Izzy could see shadowy figures surrounded by witchlight.

"It's Izzy!" Jace's voice, his footsteps increased their pace.

"Hey, didn't you disarm her?" An unfamiliar voice rang.

"Oh, I did," said a younger voice, sounding cocky and satisfied, "she must have his it somewhere I didn't check."

_So you're the one who's gonna die, later, later, all deaths must be planned…_Izzy thought this is she waited for the group to approach, putting her seraph blade away as the brighter witchlight filtered through Jace's fingers.

"Isabelle!" her mother calmly walked toward her cell, reaching a hand between the bars. Izzy grasped her mom's fingers, a silent question in her eyes.

_Are you okay?_

Izzy smiled at her mom, and nodded. But then she wiped her grin off her face as the rest of the group showed up. Alec and Jace walked to her cell, both asking her if she was okay. Jace looked relieved, but his eyes were darting around everywhere, memories of his own imprisonment probably flooding his mind right now. He must have been worried, he knew what it was like to be in her position, but she hadn't been here as long as he had, so she won't be affected as much as he was.

The last two figures reached her cell, and Isabelle was conflicted between attempting to memorize every detail of their faces so that she could mutilate every part of them in a special way, or to not even look at them so that she could forget about this easier.

The older man looked to be in his late twenties, he had on Shadowhunting gear, a stern expression on his making him look older than what he really was. The guy standing next to him, the one who was going to be Izzy's latest victim, was no older than twenty, tall, and stood with a confidence that made her want to sink her nails into his eyes. He was wearing a hood that didn't much to conceal the smirk on his face.

Izzy stared at him, her eyes hopefully sending dangerous warnings because the guy seemed to lose a bit of his cockiness, but she lost the stare as Jocelyn also came into the light.

"Where's dad?" she asked as quietly as possible.

Maryse only shook her head. Great, didn't even come to bust your daughter out of the Silent City.

Jocelyn approached her as well, asking, "Isabelle, I assume you're well?"

"As well as I'll be as soon as I'm out of here!" she shouted in the direction of the two figures who imprisoned her, "And as soon as I know why I'm here in the first place!"

Alec looked mad as well, maybe more than she. Isabelle just wanted to hurt Mr. Swag over there, but Alec looked ready to unleash hell on a legion of demons.

"Who accused her?" he asked calmly, thought she could tell he was ready to explode.

"No one had to accuse her, we saw her with our own eyes," the older man answered.

"Saw her what?" Jocelyn asked.

"We saw her in a black magic store, conversing with a gremlin who we have reason to believe is also in allegiance with Jonathan Morgenstern," he replied.

"You actually found it?" Maryse asked, slightly surprised. Upon Izzy's glance, she corrected herself and said, "I mean, good work honey."

"What makes you think that a little gremlin working in some store has anything to do with that bastard?" Jace growled.

"Because we heard it from your sister herself, she was talking to the thing, and we heard that they were talking about Sebastian, also known as Jonathan." The cocky guy said.

"Where are you going with this?" Maryse final demanded in a cold voice, "On what grounds is my daughter imprisoned?"

"On the grounds that she was communing with the enemy, we have reason to believe that Isabelle Lightwood is working with Jonathan Morgenstern to overrule the Clave." He replied.

"What the hell!" Izzy retorted, "First of all, how did you guys even know where I was! Have you been spying on me?"

"We were given special orders by the Clave to closely inspect you and your family, for reasons decided by them-"

"Don't tell me the Clave thinks we're all working with Jonathan!" Jocelyn remarked

He continued as if he hadn't been interrupted, "We found Isabelle Lightwood wandering the streets, and found her interacting with an accomplice of Morgenstern's."

"Isabelle?" Alec asked.

She growled, "All I did was order the stupid thing mom made me order, and then by coincidence, I found out that the gremlin had made something for Sebastian, which by the way, if you really had been listening, was all that happened, we didn't exchange evil recipes for taking over the world or anything,"

"What did the gremlin make?" the guy asked.

"Oh I don't know," Isabelle pretending to think while tapping her head and not so subtly doing it with the middle finger, "I think I hit my head and my memories are all fuzzy."

"If you're memories are that clouded then perhaps we shouldn't believe you when you say that you didn't work with Jonathan," the old guy menaced.

Jace bristled, feeling a threat coming on, "Alright, what do you really want?"

The younger guy said, "We want what the Clave wants, and right now, the Clave wants Jonathan and Clarissa Morgenstern, and we think that you know how to reach them."

Jocelyn was the first to speak, "If we knew where they were we wouldn't be in this situation!"

Maryse held up a hand, calming Jocelyn down, "You want us to find them. But we can't, because we don't know how to."

"That's what you tell us, but that's not what the Clave thinks," the guy said.

"The Clave has not mentioned any of this to me!"

The younger guy sighed, "You know what, let's cut this simple," he dropped all cockiness and looked them all dead straight, "Three days. If you don't give us a location of the Morgensterns in three days, we will be required to inform the Clave of your daughter's interaction with the enemy."

"Go ahead! Tell them!" Isabelle barked. Alec tried to shush her, but she was yelling now, "I'm not afraid of them! You know why! Because I've got nothing to hide!" Not necessarily true, everyone's got something to hide, but that didn't matter right now.

The older guy drew a rune on a bar of the cell, as quickly started to walk away, the other guy quickly following him.

"Three days, you have three days to give us any information you have." They were almost out of sight before Jace lunged at them, Alec too, but Maryse and Jocelyn held both of them back. How, she didn't know, considering that they were both much shorter than them.

The rune had unlocked the door, and Izzy quickly stepped through as soon as it opened. Though she knew it was childish, she hugged her mom, thankful that she was there.

When she separated from her mom, she caught Jocelyn's eye for about a second before Jocelyn looked away. But Izzy still saw it, the pain as Jocelyn felt as she saw a mother and daughter reunited, knowing that hers was still out there somewhere.

And now they had three days to find her before the Clave got all up in their face.

**Clary POV **

Witchlight.

The aurora borealis looked like witchlight, its green illuminating the sky across her vision, making her ache for something to draw it with. The light was so surreal, so intense that she couldn't believe she was seeing it in person.

She was lying down on the ground, making snow angels, Chris right beside her, staring up at the beauty of it. She wore a blue long thick jacket, ear muffs and a scarf wrapped around her nose. She had drawn about five heating iratzes before she exited the front door, and now she wished she had drawn more. It was cold, but she could ignore it.

"What does it remind you of?" she asked him.

Chris was staring up intently too, light snowflakes were falling earlier, and some of it had gathered around his hair, making it look like silver sparkles amongst his already pale head. "It looks like the time I killed a demon and its green guts spilled all over the ground."

"That's disgusting." Clary remarked, "It reminds me of witchlight."

"That too."

"How long does this last?" she asked.

"I have no clue," he responded.

Silence, and then, "Can we stay until it's over?"

"Aren't you cold?" he questioned.

In response she moved to his side, so that they shared body heat, she curled up, and he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close, and they both stared up at the lights that have never cease to amaze.

**Lacie: Well, that was a boring chapter ending**

**Clary: You have taken too long to update. Again**

**Lacie: well, it's not my fault that I have other matters to attend to**

**Clary: what can be more important than updating?**

**Lacie: nothing, thought my parents have other plans…**

**Chris: What was the score?**

**Lacie: Oh yeah! I got a nine average out of the scores you guys said about the last chapter! **

**Clary: Well actually, it was an 8.99999473 or something like that**

**Chris: Your point it?**

**Lacie: But anyway, sorry for it being so long, I really probably spent that last two days finishing this chapter. It's not that I don't start on a chapter, its just that I write a little each day, but then my life cuts into this and I don't write as much as I would like to **

**Clary: Chris quit poking me**

**Chris: I'm not poking you**

**Clary: Then stop pointing at me!**

**Chris: But I'm not doing anything!**

**Clary: Quit it!**

**Lacie: Alright that's it! Both of you stop this or else you're grounded!  
Chris & Clary: yes mom**

**Lacie: Now do the thing**

**Clary: Please review and feel free PM Lacie anytime you want!**

**Chris: Thanks for reading and bear with us for the next chapter**

**Lacie: Review guys! See ya!**


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